


Inherited Traits

by Irish, mrapollo



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, M/M, Past Child Abuse, still have powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irish/pseuds/Irish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrapollo/pseuds/mrapollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young, recently paralyzed professor finds himself in strange, dangerous company. How like him to invite that company, and how like that company to invite itself.</p><p>[An AU in which Erik is a terribly old and angry vampire who attempts to make an easy meal of Charles, and is pleasantly surprised when there is something much more alluring about him than the blood running under his skin.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charles rubbed his eyes, half asleep in the pile of books stacked as high as he sat. He had no intention of reading them all, certainly not in one night, but if there was something he needed, a reference or a quote, he required all of them and, as such, had built himself a city of old paper and warped spines. It was by some sort of cruel twist of fate that the only section of Oxford’s enormous library that had yet to be refurbished was the science section. Hefty shelves and thin passages made it impossible for him to navigate the section alone, leading to the embarrassing situation of giving a help desk attendant a page long list of books before wheeling himself to an empty desk in one of the lonelier corners of the library. After thirty minutes, sometimes an hour, the poor student worker would arrive with a cartload of books, all picked out for him. He was always greeted with a smile, but met with an air of annoyance and disdain that only someone like Charles could pick up on. 

He hadn’t really noticed how good people were at putting on fronts before the accident, having a trust in people that defied what he now called his ‘mutation’. Now, it was made obvious every time he found himself back at the library, a place he nearly lived in. At first, he’d utterly dreaded the act, even coming all the way to the doors only to turn back and head home out of shame. There was no doubt he was a nuisance, Charles didn’t need the waves of contempt that emanated from every library employee whenever he entered the building to be sure of it. It was simply something to be expected. Even with the expectation, it still hurt knowing he was such a bother, even when it came to something as simple as collecting library books. Mind reading seemed such a curse now, even if Charles could usually block everything out. The curiosity of what people really thought of him kept him crawling back to the same, angry disdain even when a mere week of his paralyzed condition had proved that it was much the same everywhere.

Squinting to focus on the text before him, Charles closed the book, leaning back in his chair and exhaling in frustration. His watch read 2 A.M., but he was sure there was at least another hour left in him. If the text would prove itself legible without intense strain for another hour, then another hour Charles would spend researching. It was a pleasant distraction, and any sort of distraction was what Charles needed most. 

Leaning over the desk, he reached for one of the texts that lay just nearly out of reach, just barely grabbing it by the spine and flicking through the pages. Adjusting the lamp overheard to shine unpleasantly bright so as to, hopefully, keep him lucid for the next sixty minutes or so, he read on, happy only a few, distant minds remained in the library at such an hour. 

To some, like Charles, the library was a blessed safe haven harboring a small slice of quiet. Being open nearly all night did have its pitfalls, though. The occasional odd character would waltz its way down the hall, some crazy drug addict or homeless person trying to find a roof over their head, but, usually, nothing too sinister. It was the sixties, and these things just tended to happen. 

Tonight seemed like any other given the gentle thrum of minds pooling around Charles the way they usually did, worrying about their mortgage or the sound of people reading to themselves in their head. Altogether, it was shaping up to become another pleasantly uneventful night.

As if to purposefully break the calm, something edged its way into his thoughts, a new mind surfacing in his proximity and coming in torrents, sharp like razorblades and prickling with hunger. 

It was about the only warning he'd get in the silence upon hearing a voice coming from just behind him, a figure standing still with his back leaned up flat against the book-case behind him, a copy of T.H. White's "The Once and Future King" folded between his fingers, the cover all worn and the binding old. The book was snapped shut as the figure approached, the sound softly echoing the empty halls around them. 

The man’s voice seemed intoxicatingly smooth, his stance far too posh and delightful for the odd surge of darkness than seemed to follow him, a peer into his mind bringing forth the realization that he seemed to be able to hear Charles' heartbeat from across the room, seemed focused on it like a cat watching a mouse flail around on the floor. An unsettling quiet, the figure set a hand on the back of Charles wheelchair and leaned over to intentionally block his light, squinting down at the pages. Just as quickly as he’d approached, he drew back, testing the water carefully with his decided prey for the evening.It was hard even for the man to focus, that close to such an easy mark, and Charles felt a thrumming of brutal desire that was surely not his own.

"That's some heavy reading for it nearly being..." With a leg bent at the knee, he looked something like an apparition in the dim light cast overhead by the library’s ornate lamps, brown hair slicked back and a black turtleneck hugging his throat. Shuffling an old pocket watch out of his jacket with thin fingers, the man squinted down at it as he took a slow step around Charles' seated form. "... Nearly three am. You, my friend, need a hobby." While the newly installed modern fixtures may have detracted from the full sight of him, hiding his features nearly in silhouette, his eyes shone in any lighting or, even, the lack thereof, an oddly bright shade of blue encompassed by pitch dark circles. 

Charles had stopped reading the moment the unfamiliar mind approached, eyes still glued to the page and mind wandering to take residence in the mystery man’s head. He grimaced as he dipped into his psyche, feeling cold, consistent displeasure radiate from him. Whoever he was, he wasn’t very pleasant to be inside of. A web of impossibilities was strung around the man’s mind, but what stuck Charles the most was how very old he felt. Older minds always felt different and this “Erik” felt impossibly old. Further examination told Charles he was in fact impossibly old, but it was just that: impossible. Brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and confusion, Charles was caught off guard by the overwhelming thought of himself as an “easy mark”.

Already tense from the unnatural feeling of Erik’s mind, Charles’ heart began to race as he shared in the myriad of images of what exactly Erik had planned. He closed the book quickly, hands shooting to his chair as if he could simply roll away and be out of danger. Looking up slowly, Charles met Erik’s eyes, staring dumbly at their unearthly intensity for a moment before replying, “It is late, isn’t it. I believe I should head home." Despite the statement, he stayed still, hands not even moving to the wheels. There was something wrong with this man, and Charles was willing to remain in danger long enough to find out. He only needed a few minutes to garner all the information he needed and, if trouble arose, telepathy was an easy way to distract. 

Leaning an elbow to an armrest, he pressed fingers to his temple casually and frowned up at the man.

His thoughts didn't come the same way that others did, all emotions and thoughts garbled in multiple languages. The deeper Charles looked, the more he’d see things completely impossible by most standards. He could hear horse hooves and see carriages rolling over cobblestone streets, smell the brick and smoke churning over the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, feel metal bending around him as he pushed open the fences of a Nazi concentration camp outside of Warsaw. Things that were incredible jutted by pure gore, thirst, blood; a hunger never quenched and a heart long, long left unattended. 

" Is it something I said? ", Erik questioned innocently. Despite it though, there did seem to be an actual 'person' standing before Charles, looking rather confused and perhaps as if he'd done something wrong. While limited, the few peers of Erik’ that shared in his affliction were all the same; far too quick to the punch. It was ever so much more fun to get to know them, to take what he needed at the least expected moment. Keeping his mouth pursed in a friendly sort of smile, he did not advance on Charles. Instead, he chose to place himself, perfectly still against the desk Charles had been reading from, watching him intently.

There was a rigid, unexplainably mechanic feeling that shot through Erik’s mind in the same moment that Charles found his chair completely unable to move, the wheels locking as if someone had pulled the breaks on them. Erik didn't hold it long, wanting more to make a show of his prowess than to keep Charles in place. The thoughts that followed coupled with his expression seemed to suggest the act wasn't entirely on purpose, finding it difficult to concentrate with the way Charles seemed to sense something off about him. "I must be losing my natural charm," he sounded a little puzzled.

Charles paid no mind to the smalltalk, focusing completely on wading through the muck of the other man’s thoughts. It was insanely difficult, a confusing swirl of languages, impossibilities, and enough activity for several lifetimes. Either the man was a particularly imaginative history major, or there was something very wrong with him. Keeping his eyes locked with Erik’s, Charles’ suspicions were confirmed upon the forced stoppage of his wheelchair. Not even the most creative mind could possibly fathom what it really felt like to manipulate a force like that, and Charles had plenty of experience with his own peculiarity to confirm it. His heart began to race again, though this time from pure excitement rather than fear.

As exciting as the prospect of another mutant standing right before him was, there was the looming threat of that very same mutant murdering him on the spot. Charles was confident he could stop him before their casual affair reached that point, but the mystery of what exactly Erik /was/ was a source of trepidation. Obviously, he was a mutant, there were no doubts about that after the display with his metal wheelchair. Not so obviously, though, was why Erik felt such a need to tear his neck open. Charles had weighed the possibilities; a strange fetish, a deep-seated psychological issue, or, ridiculously enough, because he truly needed to. Of course, the most insane proved the most likely. The man’s unnatural hunger was overwhelming whenever the telepath dipped into his mind, and, with no other options to truly consider, Charles was certain the man was much more than simply a mutant.

Charles had so many questions and, if Erik had his way, not very much time to ask them. Deciding suddenly that he was positive he could stop Erik in the event of things escalating a bit too quickly, and certainly not deciding just for the sake of satisfying his curiosity of where Erik would take this, Charles chose to reply vaguely, “I don’t believe its a natural charm that gets you what you want, is it?”

There was that mildly confused look surfacing again onto Erik's otherwise stern face as he rested his book on the heavy desk, pulling his arms to cross over the thick of his coat at his chest. There were ghosts of bewilderment coaxing through his mind at just how keen Charles seemed to be on him. He would've chalked it up to simply being afraid that Erik was there to mug some cripple alone too late at the library, but the nature of his comment had him downright suspicious. Eyeing the way Charles' blue eyes now seemed so boldly set on him, Erik tilted his head, perversely inhuman gaze apparent now that he'd settled on not simply dragging Charles away to a corner, taking his fill, and leaving. Far and few between were these rare moments that he actually found his interested perked, eyeing the way he could feel Charles' pulse pick up in excitement, watch the way his beautiful eyes seemed to chase him like a painting. It had him actually smirking, and trying to not sound completely vexed.

" Well? If I were to be perfectly honest with you. No. I suppose it's anything but," he said with a narrow of his eyes down at Charles as he wondered what exactly he was playing at. Of all people, someone like Charles, a bookworm, albeit a good looking one, knowing exactly what he was up against? He could only ponder that he'd had some sort of run-in with his kind before or be some sort of occult nut. Wrinkling his nose a little at the thought, Erik's gaze refocused to Charles after a moment, tilting his head the other direction to squint at him. " Certainly a peculiar thing to say to a stranger. You're an odd little thing, aren't you? " Erik actually didn't say it in a condescending tone, despite the fact that it very obviously was condescending in nature. The world around him was paper, mortals were breakable. Four hundred years of survival gave him reason enough to be condescending with the young thing before him. Taking a moment to muse over his condition with his food was hardly anything but healthy amusement. 

"Perhaps we've started off on the wrong foot," he quickly cut off any possibility of protest as he pushed from the table and took a solid step to stand before him, standing tall and thin despite the coat dragging heavy on his shoulders. " I'm Erik," he mumbled, squinting and quietly wondering just how lonely someone like Charles was, what points to use to get him to some place a little more quiet where he wouldn't alert a passing security guard.

The feelings of confusion and curiosity dropped into swirls of primal hunger and, though they were almost immediately swallowed by that insatiable hunger, Charles felt them ring through Erik’s mind all the same. A triumphant smile tugged at his lip as he prided himself on keeping the man interested. In that moment, it seemed to Charles that they could very much keep each other entertained for a long, long time if Erik — or Charles, for that matter — allowed the opportunity. “Charles Xavier,” he said, absentmindedly, still completely focused on trying to find some sort of way to organize the mess that was Erik’s mind. 

Holding out his hand in hopes Erik would be polite and take it, Charles almost immediately regretted the gesture, coming in his mental scanning upon a grisly scene of Erik ripping into a stranger’s flesh with nothing but teeth and bestial instinct. Briefly, he imagined the man gripping his hand tightly, tearing him from the chair and pressing Charles flush against him to force teeth into unbroken skin in a movement that would take only seconds. It had always been a great personality flaw of Charles’ to let his curiosity get the better of him and, despite the accident, he hadn’t managed to fix it just yet. Still, Charles knew danger when he saw it, and removed himself from Erik's mind, just scratching the surface so as to retain full strength incase of emergency. He wasn't wise enough to send Erik away with his telepathy, but he did, at least, possess some respect for his own well-being.

The thing standing tall before him did not immediately respond, staring questioningly at the extended hand for a moment as if he'd not been offered such a gesture in a long while. It wasn't as if humanity was as foreign to him as the blood soaked hands that had set him forth into the world, he rather enjoyed to be a man of the streets. Eyes ever watching, observing. It was true that passing through the years had left him detached, the nameless faces had begun to pile up despite the fact that he could remember every last one of them. Just as history did drag him helplessly along, did Erik drag it with him; forming a heavy burden of time and memory indescribable to anyone that wasn't gifted with powers of telepathy. Even then, it was unlike anything Charles encountered before. 

" A debatably wise man once told me," Erik began softly, clearing his throat, Erik’s hand extending to greet Charles’ fingers with a tentativeness, "To shake with your right hand, but always make ready your left." To what reason was quickly revealed by the temperature of his skin. Not quite as if he were dead, but far too cool to be natural, like the skin of a reptile kept in the shade and a grace to match. He chuckled and shook his hand gently, warmed by the way that Charles seemed to stare right up at him with defiance despite the fear that he could near smell on him, however faint. 

Charles didn’t shudder at the touch, having already equalized with the cold of the man’s mind, but still, the physical reaction of a flinch betrayed him. It was subtle, not something a normal person would take mind to or even notice, a brief motion of finger tips gliding too quickly over palms and giving away the bit of flighty fright Erik could easily sense. He shook the man’s hand firmly all the same.

"You seem cautious of strangers yet too kind to drive one away, even if you're quite sure he's ill intentioned,” Erik said, enraptured now by his curiosity. Charles seemed at least a little different from the typical sort running around in the era of the 1960's, an era that Erik was already finding so dreadfully gauche and inane. Existence dragged on, the tides changed, whether they were to his liking or not an entirely different matter. Most people were so completely unintelligent these days, seeing the ball of humanity begin to roll downwards, a terribly tedious affair, a bit of light conversation here and there wouldn't be unwelcome. Charles replied neutrally, choosing his words very carefully, “I don’t get enough excitement in my life anymore, I suppose.”

Boldly, or perhaps if he had absolutely no sense of propriety or personal space, the stranger’s hand came to rest gently on the free arm of his prey’s chair, bending down to give him a brief look. " Are you lonely, Charles? . . . Dare I say books aren't the best of company.”

What had been a passing discomfort when Erik was a few feet away and, in Charles’ mind, at safe distance had grown to a slight panic at the approach of the man. It didn’t surprise Charles that Erik had zero sense of personal space, especially given his true intentions, but it was enough for him to decide that the game was over. Space alone didn't dictate the coarse of action, and, though it certainly was a deciding factor, it was the impatient hunger that gnawed more and more at Erik that spurred Charles to action. The strangest thing about the feeling was the immense disconnect it seemed to have with the rest of Erik's mind, appearing natural in the scape of his psyche, yet, at times, feeling distinctly parasitic and foreign. Adding that to the growing list of queries Charles would have to answer, either with Erik's willing cooperation or a bit more digging, Charles set himself to putting the odds in his favor.

At this distance, just inches away, it would be a 50/50 battle of agility between Charles’ mental acuity and Erik’s inhuman speed. “Surely, I’m not any lonelier than you are, Mr. Lehnsherr,” he said, unable to hold back the grin. There was a particular pleasure in the inevitable shock that blanketed the face of whoever Charles decided to play his tricks on. A normal stranger would never assume the supernatural or, as Charles so personally discovered, mutation to be the source of Charles’ illusions. Erik, though, would have a unique reaction. It was exactly that, that complete unpredictability, that excited Charles enough to throw himself into harm's way.

Erik had begun to lean away from Charles and straighten his posture once more, his hand withdrawing and again allowing Charles his personal space. The sudden shock of hearing a name not spoken for centuries on the lips of someone who surely had no business speaking it had him shooting back. Erik's mind became little less than white water rapids in a frustrated moment, moving quicker than Charles' eyes could process to suddenly bring a hand down to fist in the front of his shirt. 

" Where--- H -- ", Erik's voice came out stammered for a moment before he moved in on him like an animal. Paralyzation be damned, it didn't stop Erik from fisting his fingers in that cloth and near bringing the cripple out of his chair with an easy tug of unspeakable strength. " How do you know that name?", His voice came out angry, low, and toxic behind gritted teeth as if everything about the gesture was meant to be a threat. And, clearly, it was, given the way those ghostly blue eyes glared deep into him as if he were going to snap poor Charles in half at any second, " Answer in any way untruthfully," he took a breath as if trying to calm his words enough to produce them and held Charles there like a rag doll ", and mark my word, my charming little bookworm, they will find your head filed in the trashy romance section tomorrow morning. " 

The threat might've sounded completely genuine if there wasn't some sudden wall of fear that washed over Erik behind those gritted teeth, lips kept tight on purpose to not reveal his hand too quickly. What could someone like Erik be afraid of? Ancient images flashed through his mind, the sound of metal bending and a dark, dark voice that seemed to haunt him beneath his skin.


	2. Chapter 2

Unpredictability was what Charles craved, and it was what he received. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected the panicked display Erik put on, believing more that the man would simply be bewildered and ask Charles how he possibly could have known his real last name. It was a perfect world where Charles held all the strings thanks to his convenient mutation, which only made it harder to account for the reaction of the only enigma he’d ever come across. He felt the fear, pain and anger writhing in a mass beneath Erik’s skull before his voice rose, disturbing the calm of the library and revealing to Charles in an animalistically threatening display a pair of unearthly sharp fangs. Despite his rampant curiosity, there was no time for Charles to wrack either of their brains for an answer, all thought concentrated now into saving his skin. Erik lifted Charles just enough out of his chair for the telepath to scramble for purchase, a hand reaching out to uneasily grasp for an arm of his chair and the other shooting to attack position at Charles’ temple.

Before Erik could finish his threat, he was already setting Charles down gently and taking a long stride back for good measure. Long had Erik speculated that there was little left on the Earth that would genuinely shock him, but the feeling of being trapped within one's own body, suddenly finding his limbs controlled by invisible strings, was certainly something new. Even as the dark figure settled Charles easily down into his chair and his steps found themselves smoothly backtracking, he could not so much as open his mouth to gasp or to protest, could not widen his eyes to convey his genuine shock. Instead Erik stood there, forced to be completely still and portray the perfect picture of a calm he doubted he could exhibit naturally. A complete lack of free will being a completely foreign experience, he stuttered for a solid minute and looked genuinely bewildered, as if Charles had undone the lace of his entire reality in one gentle pull.

Breathing heavy, Charles’ fingers shook as he forced Erik still, holding him in awkwardly straight posture as he boomed in the man’s mind, “ _I’m like you, Erik, it’s all right. I don’t mean you any harm,_ ” he paused, smiling a bit despite the situation, “ _Even though you may mean it to me._ ” Deciding to save his energies should another conflict arise, Charles released the other man, exhaling as he did it yet keeping his fingers pressed firmly to his temple. " _You're a mutant and... something else I'm not quite sure I believe yet_ ," he echoed through Erik's mind, purposefully keeping their conversation muted in order to project a wash of calm over the other man. It was a drop in the maelstrom, but it went straight through the eye, having, at the very least, some effect.

Despite his immediate assumptions that the rather innocent looking man in front of him was indeed something special, something he'd never encountered before, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander around quickly to look around him. It was as if Charles' voice came from everywhere, and yet nowhere at once. Erik's eyes immediately melted to something more concerned and intense when he felt Charles slithering around in his mind as if he were just another part of his psyche, heard the word 'mutant' sending his own thoughts into a flurry of various memories of his mother explaining calmly that he was simply different.

" A--a mutant? Is that what you call this?", Erik finally managed to gulp out words before he steeled himself. Despite whatever calm may have been brought back to his voice, the figure didn't dare move his body an inch, didn't budge on those old weathered marble floors. Even more amazing, did Erik find someone that could so easily better him? Even with the power he'd coveted for so many years? It made sense that whatever was wrong with him was a mutation, but he couldn't help but think bitterly that Charles had no idea, that the 'something else' that he was really ruined and over-rode anything else. "...How .-- How is that possible? I've lived longer than you can imagine and I've never --- I thought I was alone,” Erik stuttered, more emotion in those words than any he’d spoke in the past century.

Charles couldn’t keep the excitement from his face, tentative smile turning to a beaming grin. Fully confident that making the only other mutant around into a snack was rather low on Erik’s priorities, Charles rolled forward, just enough to close the distance he’d placed between them. Ignoring all personal boundaries just as Erik had so rudely ignored his, he reached out, taking Erik’s hand and cupping it between his own, “You’re not alone, Erik. Not anymore.” Charles promised a great many things with those words, likely more than he knew, but never more than he intended. He felt how much those words meant to Erik, echoing the same feelings back to him. The promise was as much for Charles as it was for Erik and, though Charles felt only a fraction of Erik’s unbearable loneliness. Delving into Erik’s despair felt remarkably like waltzing through the planes of the telepath’s own mind.

Had Erik been a mutant — just a mutant — things would have been simpler. They were alike in more ways than anyone could dream, but people had been divided over lesser things than the morality of murder. There were a thousands things utterly wrong with Erik, things Charles could never come to forgive him for, but Charles was more selfish than anything, a lifetime of solitude keeping him clamoring for the contact of another like himself. He would either politely ignore the muck of Erik’s past, or, more easily even, pin the blame of the man’s actions completely on his vampiric condition. To a normal man, it would be believable to blame the darker splotches of Erik’s past on that, buying into the image of the angst-ridden vampire that riddled the Romance Novel section. Unfortunately, Charles was a telepath. It was immediately apparent that Erik’s past was drawn less with dark patches, and more with a wide, all encompassing pitch black brush.

Waving the thoughts away and cursing them for ruining the moment, Charles gave Erik’s hand a squeeze before releasing it, smiling up at him. “We have a great deal to talk about,” he said, smile interrupted, briefly, by a flash of worry, “You still need to eat, don’t you?” It was framed as a question, but was undoubtably a cold statement of disappointment.

Feeling the cool of his palm cupped between two warm and welcoming hands of a stranger he'd previously been pondering dragging off into some quiet corner of the library was as pleasant as it was foreign and strange. The squeeze to his hand seemed to bring him back to himself, though as Charles released Erik's hand he held it in the air just a second too long before it was withdrawn to his side in a fist. His creator had said that there was a chance that others like him existed, but he'd long started to doubt such a thing. How funny all it took was single handshake for the world to turn upside down.

Snapping his head at the rather forward question, Erik's brow was already quirked, managing to only gawk at the wheelchair bound figure before him. " Are you ... totally mad? ", he about lost his poise over the ease Charles seemed to swallow what he was, "No questions? No fear? " his voice managed to smooth itself again as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "...I assume it's your gift, but you would truly have to be insane if you can see into my head and do anything but turn and wheel out of this building as fast as you can. ".

The truth was that he did need to eat at some point. Sure, he could go a few nights without much problem but eventually it did begin to hurt in a way that was indescribable. Every day he didn't feed the next seemed harder and harder to stop during the act. It was a constant struggle, fighting whatever it was lurking under his skin. Leave it to Charles Xavier to leave a vampire looking uncomfortable and out of sorts.

“I will admit you do frighten me, my friend, if that’s what you’d like to hear ,” he said truthfully, making no effort to put on any false fronts of bravery, “Though I think you’re more than the absolutes you boil yourself down to.” As scary and murderous as Erik was, it was very clear to Charles before he’d delved beneath even the first layers that Erik was no sadistic psychopath. He’d had the pleasure of feeling that sort of insanity before many times, curtesy of passerbys on the street. The askew sense of wrong that radiated, even at great distance, was enough to keep Charles as far from their minds as possible. Had Erik bore the empathetic defect, Charles would have sped out of the library before the doors could swing shut behind the other’s entrance. The man was broken, not ruined. Broken could be fixed, and who better to do the fixing than another broken man.

He felt Erik’s concern for his growing hunger, the man’s thoughts becoming an encyclopedia of knowledge as Erik detailed the effects of malnutrition to his kind, catalogued definitions and ingrained facts flying by instantaneously to unintentionally paint a picture of the finer details to the telepath. To examine how the mind worked was always amusing to Charles, a wealth of information coming in as a wave only to be strained until the required ideas were left, ready to be the base of experience to begin the creation of thought. He cleared his throat, straightening his back, as if what he was about to say was unbelievable. “How about a trade. You show me what you can do — _with your wonderful mutation_ —, and, in return, I’ll allow you something to eat — _I see you’re completely capable of not murdering me and I fully trust in you not to kill the only thing to interest you in the past century_ —, deal?”

Even if Charles hadn't happened across a creature both mutant and vampire, either would've been more than worth a solid case study given how rare either mutation seemed. A catalog of hundreds of years of memory and yet not another single creature like him, even when he'd once sought it out so fiercely. It appeared Erik had simply been struck by lightning twice, some inhuman cosmic anomaly. Leaning down to look at Charles for a moment and consider the offer that left him downright speechless, he quirked a brow, head tilting in curiosity.

" That's quite the offer. ", Erik mumbled in consideration before seeming to give in with a deep groan of a sound in his throat, leveling his eyes with Charles'. Feeling the man drifting in and out of his head was so foreign, so beyond anything he'd felt in ages that he couldn't help but surrender to the truth. " You really are quite strange. Interesting. But strange. " 

Confusing Erik was quickly becoming one of Charles’ favorite hobbies if the smile creeping onto his lips was any indication. The slow recollection of forgotten emotions was something very familiar, but the sluggish lurch of Erik’s mind, as if he’d completely forgotten how to be confused, was another unique quality Charles found fascinating. Exploring the mind of someone hundreds of years old was an immense treat that Charles resigned not to squander, constantly cataloguing and reviewing information even as their conversation continued. It was impolite and more than rude, but he was plenty capable of staying out of the hidden corners. Even if Erik didn’t consciously bury what Charles could only assume were very painful, personal memories, his mind made the decision for him to lock them away from Charles’ prying.

Sighing with content, Charles continued his sorting, responding to Erik only with a flash of a bright smile, letting the man get on with the show without further delay. 

A display of his powers was something he'd not even dreamed of in ages, given his constant need to keep the attention off of himself. It'd be ever so easy to assume they were just some magical biproduct brought on by vampirism the way the motion pictures would've had everyone believing, but these days? It was best to keep the lowest of profiles he could. Erik was already walking past Charles, breaking their gazes. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had company that wasn't purely seduction, wasn't some violent interlude in an alley. Joke as he did about books, he'd read about every book in the library they stood in.

Stepping down the hall between the rows of books and towards the exit, Erik's hand lifted to gently pull the breaks on Charles' chair and move him forward after him. Pushed by nothing at all but the feeling of Erik pulling at an odd aura that seemed to radiate forth from metal, he dragged the telepath along to follow. It didn't take much concentration to pull the wheels, Erik not even needing a show of gesture and purposefully placing his hands in his pockets to show off. Before his wheelchair managed to miraculously move on his own, Charles became aware of the alien feeling that was Erik’s mutation. It was all too familiar to the metalbender, a trait he was born with and fostered, much like Charles’ own mutation. Still, in the context of a world of humans, it felt strange, completely different from what he felt when using his telepathy. It was a wonderfully peculiar feeling, though, nothing at all like the incongruous hunger that reigned over Erik. Both were aspects of the man that could not be removed, the only difference between them being Erik’s control over one and the other’s control over Erik.

Pausing at the end of the aisle, Erik glanced over his shoulder. " Shall we be off to your place then?", brow raised over the presumptuous question, Erik flashed a smile at him for the first time, fang quirking out sharp and white under one lip.

Though he’d tried to restrain himself to a happy, close-mouthed smile, the moment Erik willed his wheelchair to move along, following Erik even as his gesture ceased and his hands rested placidly in his pockets as the metal was spurred onwards, it became impossible not to grin wildly. Erik was wonderful and perfect, the display of his mutation acting as the most beautiful thing Charles had ever seen. It was enough for him to forget his half of the bargain, responding with a bit too much excitement, “Absolutely.”


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back to Charles' home had been remarkably soothing for Erik, talking quietly with mind and voice interchanged in a way that would leave most passerby baffled at their fragmented conversation. Thankfully, the streets of the older end of Boston were near completely empty at this time of night, allowing them some sort of privacy to quietly marvel at one another and discuss their powers. Despite being genuinely caught in the act of being extremely intrigued by the figure rolling beside him, it was still hard for Erik to be little else than tight-lipped with his questions. Of course, he’d had conversation here and there, but it was for the sake of anonymity that Erik seemed to subdue his attempts at contact with the outside world. 

The impression Erik had made on the telepath, even with the ever lack of detail in his answers, was enormous, forcing his mind to swim with the possibilities of Erik’s mutation; limits, applications, and the like. It left him distracted, disappointingly unable to resume his now ritualistic absorption of Erik’s experiences. Not until hearing the click of his front door locking did Charles remember what he’d promised: blood. As much as Charles was enjoying distancing himself from the act to come, thinking, amusedly, how they’d locked the door, as if there was anyone in the world who could harm either of them, it quickly proved useless. Exhaling, he rationalized the situation, trying to think on how curious an act it was and the many times at many bars that he’d claimed he’d try anything once. 

Stepping through the threshold of the none-too-shabby exterior of Charles' quaint town home at least expelled some myths about creatures like Erik, as he did not seem to wait for an invitation or any of the other drivel that Hollywood would've had the public believing. No cloaks, or ridiculous over dramatic evil laughter. There seemed to be little aggression in him at that moment as Erik folded his hands behind his back to pace the length of his living room and quietly eye the photographs on the wall. Charles was standing in most of them, and even more tragically, he wore a smile Erik had yet to be blessed with seeing in person. Erik had paid the disability very little mind, but there was some small, wandering sadness that seemed to drift through him as his gaze coaxed over the pictures. Not wanting to concern himself too much with Charles’ sorrows, Erik moved on to the bookcase, scanning through the titles.

Facing Erik in the living room, hands folded in his lap to display a false sense of calm, Charles caught Erik’s eye as his gaze briefly left the books. Feigning ignorance, he asked, “Now what?”

The sound of the telepath’s voice was enough for Erik to turn his head, eyes narrowing smoothly at the rather adorable way Charles seemed to question him. He could already sense the nerves in his voice, read the way Charles was, perhaps, having seconds thoughts. Clearly, the impulsive young professor hadn’t thought this through. "Now I comment on your excellent choice in books and realize I've only got an hour or two before the sun comes up.", Erik pointed out without beating around the subject, sharp grin just a little too wide to confirm the 'reality' of everything for his friend. Charles’ eyes were forced downward whenever Erik smiled wide, eyes drawn to the gleaming fangs that seemed so obvious when one was aware of them, but somehow invisible without the prior knowledge. Furrowing his brow, he averted his eyes from Erik, picking up on the smug sense he gave off upon his evident staring and, obvious only to Erik, hint of fright.

It was odd that his eyes did not seem to see the same way Charles' did, the way that he could read every little twitch and motion, hear and smell things in the air that no one else could. ”Did the reality of what you agreed to just settle in?” Erik asked, sincerity mixing with poking fun.

Charles remained silent, responding instead with a flurry of half-complete thoughts, a sure sign of a frazzled telepath. None of the broadcasted words made any sense, all of them smashing together as fragmented sentences. Of what must have been tens of incomplete thoughts and ideas, one theme stood out clearly, underlined by a strong emotion: uncertainty.

Pacing slowly forward, Erik moved to drop down into a chair opposite of Charles with his inhuman grace, leaning forward to place his elbows against his knees and peer at the other man. " If you can read my mind, then you'd know this is rather awkward for me. I'm not sure I've ever been in this position before. But that seems to your advantage. Don't be frightened... Here-- ", he smirked, his voice highlighted by a light accent and dipping smooth in an attempt to comfort any remaining anxiety in his fellow mutant. Leaning forward, Erik's strong fingertips caught Charles', pulling them from their familiar position in his lap and bringing them to his mouth. He could feel Charles tense as if Erik had intention to bite him, but that seemed not the case. Instead, he just curled his lip up and let Charles' fingertips brush his fangs, tilting his head to let him get a better look the way Erik was well aware that he wanted. It was, after all, fascinating to someone so into genetics and evolution, and Charles found himself unable to resist, running his fingers lightly over the razor tips.

Just as quickly as Erik had snatched Charles hand from him, he released it, allowing Charles his freedom again. “ _It doesn’t have to hurt,_ ” he propositioned, testing the waters of telepathic communication to muse over the various spots that one could be bitten in. Which, darkly Charles would learn, were a lot.

The relative calm that settled over Charles’ mind was half formed of his rampant curiosity and half the pleasant blanket of placidity Erik was laying over him, probably without realizing it. All that openness Charles had forced between them, laying bare Erik’s mind for the taking had had an effect on the telepath more than it had on the victim. Telepathy was a dangerous, two way door and, if Charles wasn’t careful, it was all too easy to be influenced by what others were felt. Or what they wanted him to feel. Thankfully, the explanation of the multitude of perfect spots for biting was strange and dangerous enough to drag him from the calm, bringing him to his senses again. Shaking his head a bit, as if he’d just awoken from a sleep, Charles replied, “Er, what ever spot is easiest for you, I suppose.”

“And I’d greatly appreciate if it didn’t hurt,” he said, covering his nerves with a smile and stiffening in his chair.

It was rather strange, not having to explain himself or waste time convincing the telepath of this or that. It was an entirely comforting notion to a creature whose very existence was engulfed in the idea that people couldn't have understood him, even if they had wanted to. The permanent fear associated with vampirism back to the oldest of history books didn't help matters, but when one was sitting in your living room being cryptically polite and inviting, it was hard to match the two images up. 

Studying the telepath for a careful moment Erik at last made a move, sliding forward off of the chair to stand and roll his coat off of his shoulders. Discarding the garment over the back of the chair, he turned and stepped toward the seated figure again, even more charmingly to kneel down before Charles against the old wood of the floor. Fingers threading out a second time to wrap around Charles' wrist, dragging it forward, Erik managed to flash something of a reassuring look up at Charles. “Just relax,” he mumbled, turning the pale of his hand to expose his wrist upward, leaning up between his legs like an eager pet. 

Charles tensed as Erik settled in his dead legs, the urge to move them further apart overwhelming. There were very few times Charles fruitlessly tried to move the useless limbs anymore, having grown mostly used to the lack of sensation, but he supposed such strange circumstances were more than enough to unearth buried feelings. He let Erik take his wrist, rigid but not fighting as it was drawn to the man’s mouth. Charles could feel the way an adrenaline-like haze started to coat Erik's sense, seeming to zero in on the throb of his heart and ‘feel' the location of a vein the same way his powers allowed him to seek out metal. 

Erik took a moment to look up at him in curious permission, lips brushing the skin absently as he felt that ache grow torrid. Not another excuse or assurance given, Erik's lips curled back to fully expose his fangs, puncturing two small holes into the skin and keeping them still for a moment. Erik about went into a trance at the taste, “ _Oh--That's incredible._ ” Charles felt the shock bubbling in Erik’s thoughts at the way his blood tasted when it first hit his tongue, pulling his teeth out to let the wound lay exposed, dragging his tongue over the skin as his hands came to cradle Charles' arm to him. It was like nothing he'd ever tasted, something exotic and deep and sweet that made his eyes roll a little in his head and flutter, taking a second to nurse the skin, sucking lavishly and trying not to near fucking moan at the way it seemed to bring his skin back to something approaching warmth. 

Through Erik’s eyes Charles saw himself, head turned away and into the crook of his shoulder, betraying Erik’s wish for permission. He squeezed his own eyes shut, though from the unearthly ache that thundered through Erik and straight into Charles rather than the growing sense of unease. Shutting down the connection completely was something he should have down half an hour ago ago, just as the torrent had grown to rapid and unpredictable. Still, there was enough time to fix his mistake, and Charles promptly shut Erik out completely, silencing the man and every passerby on the street as he steeled his mind to solitude. 

Exhaling from a combination of the stress of the action and the nerves of what was to come, Charles opened his eyes, a look of surprise blanketing his face as he realized he’d already been pierced, managing to distract himself from the pain completely with his occupied mind. Now, well aware of the mark, it should have hurt, should have stung as it bled into Erik’s mouth, but, no doubt the work of Erik, it didn’t. It felt fine or, even, more than fine. There was a tingling running up his arm, racing up his spine and exploding in a pleasure much akin to that of sex. It was enough to make him gasp, embarrassing, feminine noise escaping his mouth. Glancing down to watch Erik suckle at the wound, Charles smiled: he wasn’t the only one embarrassing himself. The well constructed man that introduced himself in the library was hardly so elegant now, on his knees lapping at a crippled man’s blood. Unable to hold up his concentration through the immense, alien pleasure, Charles’ defenses cracked. All it took was a crack to unleash the flood, the euphoria Erik felt spilling like a torrent to mix with Charles’ own. 

Fully expecting his previously ironclad defenses to hold perfectly, Charles yelped in surprise, biting his lip hard and craning his head back, back arching. The jolt of pleasure quickly became an unpleasant shock as Charles shook, wrist twitching violently away and tearing Erik’s fangs along the skin. He cried out again, though this time from pain, taking his wrist back and bringing it to his chest to nurse. Breathing heavy, he frowned at Erik. “I… I’m sorry —ah—,” he gripped his wrist with his other hand, avoiding the ripped punctures, “I didn’t imagine that’d happen, I’m sorry.”

Trying to steady himself seemed a difficult task when Charles suddenly withdrew his hands, leaving his fangs bared and blood still staining the corner of his mouth as he looked up as if he'd done something wrong for a second. The sounds that Charles made, the way he could feel his heart flutter and his muscles ache like feedback made Erik all the more distraught. It took only a moment to decipher the obvious, that it wasn't distaste that had drawn the telepath away from him. 

" It's alright. I'll take care of this once we're done,” he pointed out heavily, suggestively even, watching Charles pant and try to gather himself. Erik decided right then and there that Charles, on top of being one of the world's only other mutants, and having the best tasting blood he'd ever encountered, also happened to make the some of the sweetest sounds he'd heard in ages. 

With the deliciously exquisite taste of the blood still thick in his senses Erik managed to come even closer to him, eagerly leaning up against Charles' chair and letting one hand slide the length of his thigh despite an inability to feel the action. Used as leverage when he pulled himself up, fingers pulling at Charles' wrist to claim ownership of his hand again, Erik took a second to lick a trail of stray blood up the telepath's arm. Wasting a single drop would be a crime. 

Only once he reached back to the wound did he drag his tongue away from Charles' skin, leveling out to finally meet his gaze again solidly, fingers sliding up into his hair to push it out of his face. " Trust me.” It wasn't a question, even if he'd wanted it to be, like a shark that smelled blood he was completely beside himself, animalistic in how he near straddled Charles to pull himself up a little more, dragging himself in close to take in the smell of his hair and the taste of his skin. With only the thought that he couldn't help himself, the metal bending immortal slipped his fangs into the soft skin of Charles' throat, attaching himself to the wound to not let any slip forth from his lips, tongue coaxing the sweet nectar forth and his arms coming strong and reassuring around Charles, folding him into his embrace to keep him from moving. 

Worry struck Charles’ face as he gazed at Erik, taking in the sight of man looking utterly primal, the blood that adorned his mouth making it clear that Erik was a purely predatory being. The intensity of everything had caught him off guard and, despite the level of trust he gave to his new found ‘friend’, his lack of concentration was worrying. A lifetime of restraint, constantly forcing perfect concentration onto himself had worked so far, not even drunkenness throwing off his focus long enough to put Charles in a situation he was not in utter control of. It’d taken a few experiments, a few drunken times alone or with just one other to pull in the reins and put up his blocks again. This though, the impossibly loud intensity that washed over Erik and resonated like a heart beat in disjointed combination with the pleasure that pervaded Charles’ mind was proving difficult to overcome. Perhaps, like with alcohol and other such substances, it would just take time.

Unfortunately, there would have to be multiple instances of this terrible lack of restraint before Charles had even a chance of re-erecting his blocks and assuming control again. The sheer lack of it was what truly frightened Charles, having perhaps only once in his life felt that control slip through his fingers. If he didn’t have that, that mutation that allowed him authority over every situation, whether he decided to take that power or not, the accident would probably have driven him to death. Now, with a powerful, dangerous stranger practically straddling him, Charles should have grown more worried, not less. A thought popped into existence briefly, a confirmation that this calm he was slipping into wasn’t his own. There was an abrupt sense of panic, a last ditch effort of Charles’ that told him to run. As quickly as it’d formed, it was swallowed up by Erik, distorted into thoughts of acceptance and relaxation. 

Erik seemed so trustworthy then, and Charles let himself relax, rigidity leaving his body as he closed his eyes and tilted his head, not so coincidentally in time with Erik thinking that he should. There were two pin points of pressure, a sharp jolt of pain that should have lasted longer than an instant, and then it was back to that relaxing bliss. Charles openly moaned this time, enjoying the sensation doubly thanks to the constant stream of Erik’s own pleasure. Had he been more conscious, Charles would probably have found something poetic in the unique pleasure his telepathy allowed him, the ability to enjoy his debauchery through his aggressor. 

Slowly, Charles began to come to his senses. Though their pleasures were still swimming in his mind, it was becoming easier and easier to sift through the thoughts. Finally, he’d enough sense to separate his own feelings from Erik’s, but it wasn’t thanks to his usual restraint or concentration. Instead, Charles was gaining control through the sheer lack of it, allowing himself for the first time in life to let go and not try to restrain and inhibit his mutation. It was as foreign as the thoughts that streamed from Erik’s head, but Charles found himself welcoming the freedom it brought.

His telepathy had been a form of control over his life after his useless legs had ripped that authority from him but, he thought, with a stranger’s fangs in his neck, perhaps he didn’t need that control all the time. 

If there was one thing that hundreds and hundreds of years of solitude afforded Erik, it was the ability to tell when something was 'amiss' in that rat maze of a brain, made more twisted ever by the burdened wealth of experience caged within his cool skin. He could feel Charles in his head, bouncing off the walls and feeling odd emotions flutter though his otherwise stoned heart. They weren't his own, and even as his eyes rolled shut and his tongue raked a slow line over the two small wounds, he could feel a tingle of pleasure trickle along his skin in the same spot. He could've explained, he thought, tried to explain how fucking fantastic it was, to not have to explain a single thing to Charles. Not about who he was, not about what was. Even the most deviated of idiosyncrasies looked past in favor of whatever shred of a real human being was left beneath. 

The room was complete silence now, save for the sound of suction breaking and the hushed cries of Charles loud in his ear, boiling his thoughts slowly down and reducing them until nothing was left but that savage hunger in him. However amazing his mutation might have been, Erik's physical strength was another marvel entirely to itself. Picking up Charles in his arms and pulling his weight so easily against him, he dragged him out of his chair, pulling the telepath's form down to let his legs straddle Erik on either side. Charles was interrupted halfway through a moan as the he was man handled onto Erik, surprise striking him as he realized the extent of Erik’s supernatural strength.

It wasn’t as if he could have done anything to resist the supremely strong being that splayed him, legs or no legs, atop Erik, but really there wasn’t any part of him that wished to. He let Erik take control of the situation, and, though there was the possibility that Charles could stop him if things went a direction he wasn’t liking, it was nice to allow someone else authority for once.  
In the distance, as if miles away, Charles heard his chair collide with the old bookcase in an act Erik’s mind told him was not entirely intentional.

Erik's fingers only easing to readjust his hold on him, tilting his neck wide and very, very slowly lapping his tongue against his skin like a cat with warm milk. A moan of his own vibrating against his skin, he could feel that hunger beckoning louder now, all but threatening to pull him down with it. The feeling seemed to bare an 'otherness' to it. To call it a frenzy was about the only thing that came close, but for some reason it didn't quite do it justice. 

He could've sucked every last drop from Charles right there, bodies cradled together in a position that would've rendered them fucking were there not clothes separating them. It took everything in him to will himself to stop, pulling his head back and licking his lips a second. " ...Not so bad, is it? ", Erik mumbled slyly, knowingly, his voice was coming out deep and hazy in satisfaction, tongue still absently wiping away and excess blood between his words. 

Charles shuddered at the feeling of Erik’s tongue lapping up the last of the blood, clinging to the man desperately. As Erik pulled his head back, Charles finally opened his eyes, breath heavy and eyes half lidded in a state that mimicked drunkenness. The pleasure was quickly fading, replaced instead by a throbbing at his neck and a great deal of light headedness. He flinched a little, hand coming up with little coordination to paw Erik’s face away from the wound, fingers running over the incisions and giving cause to another sudden flinch. 

“No, no, it really isn't," he started, taking a heavy breath laced with pain, "Now, though, I'm not sure I like it too much.”

There wasn't much sympathy offered to Charles' compunctions over the pain involved in his bite. In fact it seemed quiet the opposite, with the lazy smirk bore on Erik's sharp features. Drunk in a few respects himself, he said, ”I'm not sure what makes you taste so incredible, but I'm not particularly complaining either. ", he mused as he eased his grip, one hand still around Charles’ midsection to hold him up straight with ease. 

“I didn’t imagine I’d ever hear someone telling me I tasted pleasant,” he said with a small, pained laugh as the movement of the muscles in his throat did nothing to ease the throbs of pain. Though little was happening that warranted the inquisitive expression on Charles’ face, brow raised and head tilted back a bit as if he was amusedly frightened, the thoughts that spun across Erik’s mind bled into his own. It was crystal clear what Erik was planning given how the images were laid bare in his mind, but somehow it seemed the most curious thing that’d happened all night. Knowing what to expect, Charles moved back as much as he could, Erik’s arm still wrapped tight around his waist. 

The smell of blood still thick in the air enough to be distracting despite his complacency, Erik lifted his free hand to pull Charles' in, drawing him close with the iron hold he had on the smaller man’s waist. Blue eyes narrowing keenly, he knew the telepath already was well aware of what he was going to do fractions of a second before he did it. Making a sort of reassuring gaze, Erik carefully lifted his tongue to rake against the razor tip of his fang, slicing a small nick against us with little care over the quick jolt of pain that came with it. The taste of his own blood paling in comparison not withstanding, he could feel the way Charles instantly resisted the advance of his head. Having no qualms about utilizing his superior strength, Erik forcibly held the telepath still.

“ _Don't take this the wrong way,_ ” Erik projected, a smug air hanging thick around the words. Lips swooping down to catch Charles', the vampire rather boldly dove his tongue into Charles’ mouth. 

Despite the fact that he'd thought quickly, explaining that Charles needed to drink his blood to heal with the speed of thought, that this was purely a means to an end, Erik couldn’t help but lace his pleasures in every thought. It was rather nice to kiss Charles, and perhaps it showed in the way that Erik delved his tongue against Charles eagerly, a little too tenacious in what was more involved than some administering of treatment to nothing more than another meal.

At the touch of lips, Charles made a muffled sound of protest, hands coming up to Erik’s chest to fist in his clothes and push back at the iron wall of a man. The blood being forced into his mouth was, at first, disgusting, the very thought of having the bodily liquid shoved down his throat disturbing Charles to no end. The second the mixture hit his tongue, though, Charles wanted nothing than to drink his fill of it. It wasn’t the same euphoria that encompassed the bite, nothing could ever come close to that. Still, it felt wonderful and Charles clamored for more, moving into the kiss to deepen it in a way that made it very clear Charles wasn’t taking it the wrong way. 

He lapped at the cut Erik had made, suckling all the blood he could before disconnecting in a haze of rapid breaths. Giving himself a bit of distance from Erik, he leaned back, one arm coming down to hold him up, the other moving to brush against the healed wounds. Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, fingers tapping at the soft, suddenly unmarred skin of his neck. It was as if nothing had ever happened, and Charles was thankful for it. Scarves had never been his thing.

Breath finally caught, he smiled a bit, tilting his head curiously at Erik, “I’m surprised such a destructive thing like you can heal me so wonderfully.”

Now Erik seemed to allow Charles his freedom back, the flow of blood allowing his pupils to return to normal, no longer sharp and pin-holed like a wild animal. He seemed all together human again, save for the splotch of blood adorning his lip. Charles marveled silently, projecting on complete accident how curious he thought it was that it took only the smallest bit of Erik’s own blood to fix the wounds that had marred Charles’ skin not a minute ago. He wondered briefly what sort of effect it would have on a larger scale.

"...You have no idea, Charles. ", Erik mumbled in response, intentionally cryptic, leaving it up to the telepaths to fill in the blanks. However frightening the concept of being a vampire was, he had the power to bring Charles back from the dead, as if everything else weren't enough. “But, I dare say that discussion is better suited for another time. ". 

The ambiguous nature of Erik’s tone, lending itself to a dozen possibilities peaked Charles’ interest. He wanted to press the issue, wanted so badly to know if the ghost of a feeling in his toes was a phantom or reality. The time of night and Erik’s insistence on saving the discussion for later stopped him from bringing it up, though.  
Clearing his throat, his eyes flicked away from the figure curled in his arms to will the chair back toward them. Standing and pulling Charles up with him, Erik seemed to take the tenderest of care placing him back, taking a last breath of his hair unconsciously as they parted, dismissing it just as quickly as a side effect of loneliness and the mutant's blood still haunting him. The gentleness with which Erik set him down with surprised him and, before the idea had formed fully in Erik’s mind, Charles smiled, knowing what he’d ask before the words had even clearly formed in his head. Still, he humored him, waiting until he’d finished asking the question, back turned to busy himself with the dropped books. It was funny seeing the immortal man asking for a place to stay so awkwardly, as if he hadn’t helped himself to Charles’ life force moments ago and was just now trying to break the ice.

" I would normally assume I'm being too forward or that it was a wretched, terrible idea to do this but,” Erik wearily sighed as he carefully placed each book back to its previous place on the shelf. Giving an apologetic glance to the books he'd knocked off of Charles' shelf earlier, bending down to pick them up and place them back by hand. “It's getting late, and I'm afraid I don't have a place to sleep today,” Erik crossed his arms, steeling himself for what he thought would be an inevitable ‘no’. It was easy to ask to bite him, but he seemed a little less eloquent asking a favor. 

He, in fact, had good reason to be a little worried about it, as with a quick scan Charles would know he really didn't have any place to go. Erik usually curled up in the closets of hotels, sewers, vacant apartments, houses, or even old basements. Just about anywhere that allowed him a retreat from the burning sun and mild comfort. Tragically, beds weren't something he could usually enjoy, as they left someone like him entirely too vulnerable. As if the need to hide from something as simple as sunlight wasn’t bad enough, the second that sun would hit the brick outside he'd lose about all of his strength, feel the pull to rest like weights were placed on him. Staying up was never an option.

Lucky for Erik, Charles had no reservations in letting the man stay the night. As far as he was concerned, Erik could stay as long as he liked. Projecting an air of acceptance before the answer, Charles replied, “You have your pick of the rooms,” smiling cheekily, he added, “Or the basement, if you brought your coffin along for the sleepover.”

The comment over the coffin sent Erik's eyes pinwheeling in his head, sounding downright petulant for a second as his voice came out in a distasteful scoff. " I do not sleep in a coffin. “ Not that a coffin was an altogether terrible idea when one was in a bind and needed to come up with a quick place to stay, but to his best guesses one too many grave robbers had gotten a nasty shock when pulling them open. Either that or the stereotype was entirely to blame on Bram Stoker. Not that there was a lot more elegance in curling into a ball in some terrible shag carpeted closet of some gaudy motel, indicative of the 1960's in all it's glory.

The night had been full of more than enough excitement, and, as Charles glanced at the clock on the wall, he yawned, tiredness finally catching up with him. "You're going to make me nocturnal at this rate.”

Once again reminding his thoughts weren't just his own anymore, he also tried not to make some terrible joke that he could, in fact, make Charles nocturnal, but it was bitten back in favor of a very polite sounding apology, " I'm sorry to keep you up. I keep odd hours. " And there was that smile again, thoughts flashing by quickly that it felt so foreign to be able to joke again, to have any sort of real company, let alone company that seemed so damned accepting of whatever sort of monster he was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments~~!

Morning came far too quickly and Charles gave only one glance at the buzzing alarm beside his bedside before slamming his fist down to effectively silence it. Hazily, he thought about last night, the whole event seeming like a swirl of a strange, erotic dream. He lazily brought his fingers to rest at his temple, scanning the home to confirm a second pulse within the house. With a quiet laugh, he remembered it wasn’t quite a pulse. Sighing in content, he let his hand return to his side, eyes still shut to protect them from the too-bright light that shone through the curtains. Erik had come upon him at the right time and, even if he was meant to be nothing more than a meal, he was immensely grateful to have met him. There was a certain spice in his life that had left him, the days going by in a bleary haze of student work and organizing lectures that he himself struggled to find interesting anymore.

Even his work on mutation became a drag, every day bearing fruitless results and reports that brought him no closer to learning the secrets of himself, or even if there were others like him. Erik had changed everything about his life in a mere day, confirming his hypothesis and granting a wealth of knowledge about the nature of mutations. Of course, he’d come with other peculiarities and benefits, reading like the world’s most accurate historical text and turning Charles’ beliefs on the supernatural on their head. Any bit of Erik’s uniqueness would have been more than enough to keep his curiosity sated. His mutation, lifespan, and vampiric persuasion, made him irresistibly interesting. The surprisingly pleasant personality and damn fine looks didn’t help snuff Charles’ attractions either, only fueling the homoerotic fire that Charles hadn’t known existed within him. Smiling, just on the cusp of sleep, Charles thought over all the questions Erik would eventually be able to answer, whether through actual conversation or psychic snooping.

The bliss was short lived though, as the myriad of thoughts about his research and schooling led to the realization that today was a Monday. And Monday was a school day. Jolting awake, he snatched the alarm clock, staring blankly at the numbers that told him he was absolutely, unavoidably, going to be late. The three or so hours of sleep left him sluggish, a problem he didn’t need on top of his handicap. He’d have been late even if he had legs, the handicap only serving to add another forty minutes to his morning ritual even at his speediest.

An hour and a half late, he arrived on campus, the idea of the vampire sleeping under the dark reaches of a bed the furthest thought from his mind. 

 ——————

Charles slammed the door shut behind himself around six at night, exhausted from hours upon hours of lecture, meetings, and grading. It was impossible to forget about Erik once he’d entered the house, already feeling his mind trying to mix with Charles’ own. Forcing it out with the strongest blocks he could muster with such exhaustion, he wheeled to the corner of the living room. Leaning with his elbow propped against the arm of the chair, fingers nestled in his hair, he closed his eyes and sighed. There were things to do, papers to grade, Erik to greet, and, at some point, some sort of quick food to make. Now, though, all he wanted to do was nap. Just for a few minutes. 

He never heard Erik coming down the wooden steps, already on his way to a well-deserved nap. Instead, he felt Erik’s mind draw closer and closer, threatening to invade Charles’ personal space as he fell deeper into the state just before sleep.

"Good evening, Charles," came a smooth voice from the staircase. "I hope I wasn't too forward, but I changed the lights upstairs and fixed a few th—"Erik stopped, rounding the corner and entering the living room to be greeted by Charles. He looked godawful, bags under his eyes and a pallor that Erik didn't remember him having in the library. Another condition, he'd imagined, of trying to keep the vampire's company. 

Though he’d expected Erik to greet him, the voice in the silence made the telepath jolt, eyes opening suddenly to stare at the other man for a moment as if he didn’t register him. Erik looked quite different with the apparent change of clothes, the Harvard shirt Charles had gotten his freshman year adorning his torso. Charles raised a brow, looking wistfully at the shirt rather than Erik. It’d been years since he had seen it, locked away in the forbidden upstairs. In truth, he’d completely forgotten about it. He wasn’t one to be mad about things shared, and, after brushing away some angst over how just a few years of his crippled condition had felt like ages, he smiled, happy the shirt was finally seeing some use.

 “—Things," he finished, squinting at Charles, “Are you all right? You look substantially less attractive sleep-deprived and I… assume malnourished.” While Erik had never actually kept the company of a human for longer than a few days and most certainly had never had one that accepted what he was, he still understood the basics. Between losing a few a pint or two of blood and trying to balance his normal, human life, it wasn't going to be an easy for either of them if Erik wanted to stick around. 

“Exhausted, that’s all,” he replied, straightening his back in the chair and giving good, hearty stretch before rolling over, closer to Erik.

"I can make you something if you'd like,” Erik mumbled, nearly cutting Charles’ off, crossing his arms and coming to stand before him, brows knit together in something akin to sympathy. After a good four hundred years of having no need for a hot meal, Erik’s cooking skills were far from decent. Still, with all the new-fangled technology of this age, he could definitely whip something up. There were always sandwiches, of course.

“I’d very much like that, thank you,” Charles smiled softly up at the other man, hands again calmly set in his lap.

Flicking through Erik’s mind, Charles raised a brow. “I realize you’re concerned with my well being and I thank you for that," he started, sighing a bit as if he already knew what he was about to ask was improbable, "but I would prefer you didn’t go out tonight." Bringing a hand up to effectively silence any immediate rebuttal and looking sternly at Erik, as if he wasn’t about to chide one of the strongest creatures on the planet, he continued, "I know you’re thinking it, but so long as you’re associating yourself with me I’d rather you not go drain some hopeless stranger.” He was in no condition to donate more blood, certainly not after last night’s display, but Charles, even as a man of science, was more a man of impulse. He would willingly give up more blood, perhaps not as much as last time, but, hopefully, enough to satisfy Erik’s hunger. If his blood tasted as good as Erik claimed it did, he believed the man would be hard pressed to turn down the offer. 

The request brought a brow shooting up on Erik's features, some knee-jerk impulse in him loathing the idea of being told what to do. It wasn't a shocking reaction, given the fact that Erik had been moving solo through the world for so long. Despite it, Erik seemed to reason over his options in his head quickly and come to the conclusion that Charles was simply too rare for him to walk away from. He could've thrown a fit about his seniority between the two of them, tried to puff up his best and look intimidating. Instead though, with a mildly perturbed look, he simply tensed his jaw and offered a nod. 

"As you wish. But I'm not feeding from you again until you look less like a corpse,” he mumbled, hand coming free of his pocket to give an obvious gesture toward the young professor's state. Even as the words were still leaving Erik's mouth, it was hard not to rustle loose some deep, distant memories where Erik himself had learned first hand what exactly it was like to be kept by a blood-sucking parasite. Memories of his human life were brief, bloody, and brutal in ways that were downright nightmarish, and, despite how much he tried to bury them under a few hundred years of newer, less painful memories, they were unearthed from time to time. Charles and their unique situation was nothing like what Erik had been forced through, but it didn’t make it any less horrifying having to have to tip-toe around and not break Charles. There was a danger in caring about someone afflicted by the human condition, but Erik could learn to be careful. He’d have to, anyway, if he wished to be relieved from his loneliness.

Charles didn’t need his telepathy to know Erik would be firm on the issue. As much as Charles would have liked him to just acquiesce to his opinion, it would have been a bit worrying. He trusted Erik because he knew for certain the man wouldn’t take his blood for granted or let himself get sloppy and accidentally end up killing him. It was nice to know Erik regarded Charles as more than a free meal ticket, even if it did, in some way, conflict with Charles’ wishes. “I wasn’t aware you were so picky about the looks of your prey,” he joked, slyly complimenting himself. 

It was nice to have someone to poke fun at, and even better to be in the mood to do it, but, despite the joy Erik’s company brought him, things were still far from perfect. Erik’s thoughts fluttered by, tinged with black and managing instantly to kill Charles’ mood. There were so many things to sift through Charles hadn’t even given Erik’s previous, human life a second thought. No further explanation was needed, something evidently Erik adored about the telepath, and Charles didn’t believe it the right time to unearth the bad memories. Generally, if it near stung to dig deeper into a cluster of thought, it was best to leave it alone.

Erik’s eyes flicked up as he realized Charles was probably listening to what he was thinking. It wasn't really an invasion of privacy in his opinion, there was no trying to suppress what Charles was given how easily Charles had accepted even his most brutal of traits. Either way, Erik already was showing himself toward the kitchen and sighing heavily under his breath. " I don't try to be pessimistic about the two of us, but you do realize keeping me around is extremely dangerous, don't you? I may seem perfectly pleasant, but you are going to end up getting yourself killed. “ _Or worse,_ he thought morbidly, before stopping to inspect Charles' rather empty, pathetic looking pantry. He might have been ancient, he thought as he pawed some bread out of a lone corner, but he still could easily see the signs of someone deeply depressed. Erik wasn't the only one carrying pain around with him through the ages, it seemed.

Following behind Erik as he entered the kitchen, Charles stopped himself just in the doorway, “I wouldn’t have let you into my home had I not complete faith in you, Erik.” Flashing a reassuring smile, he continued, “You’re not going to kill me or _worse_ ,” he mocked, bringing up his hands to mime quotations, “Stop acting like you’re some sort of exotic predator I brought home and expected to turn vegetarian, I'm fully prepared to provide whatever you need."

As heartily as Charles wished to stick close to his ideal there was absolutely no way he alone could provide sufficient food for Erik. He wasn't one to back down on things, though, especially when it came at the gruesome expense of others, and, despite the clear fact that Charles would kill himself trying, he was determined to make the impossible work. Crossing his arms rather than leaving his hands in their trademark position calmly set into his lap, he looked the picture of wheelchair-bound defiance.  At work making Charles' dinner with his back to him, the words being blurted out from behind seemed only to earn Erik's disdain, eyes cast down and narrowing slightly at the corners. 

"I _am_ some sort of exotic predator that you've brought home and what you're expecting me to do is impossible. Physically, you are unable to sustain me the way you think you can. Don't you think I would've paired up with a human sooner? Found convenience in companionship and gone through time that way?" he stated it matter-of-factly as he finished his task, setting the rather plain sandwich on a plate and serving it politely to Charles despite the rather curt words to follow. "Look at you. You're thin, frail, and hardly take care of yourself as it is by the state of your home. I may not be human anymore, Charles, but I can tell one thing for certain. You alone cannot satiate me. If you want to have a say in my diet, I suggest you start to come up with some sort of plan."

Erik actually didn't say what he actually wanted to just then despite the fact that keeping it to himself was a completely moot point. "Not to say that I'm not amiable to abiding by your wishes, or that I won't stay in tonight. I am a guest in your home, after all, “ he declared, even while the thoughts flipped wildly through his head of what a terrible idea this was already becoming. His comments over Charles' weight weren't really to do with his physical health, but between the photographs on the wall and the state of affairs throughout the home, it was terribly obvious that he'd come upon someone with a world of problems their own. It was easy to see Charles as being a very well put together, well balanced sort but it was becoming apparent to Erik, who now leaned with his shoulder against the door frame of the kitchen and looked guilty, that his first inclination over the telepath had been correct. Charles was, in fact, terribly lonely, and apparently even less willing to accept help than Erik in all of his infinite, petulant stubbornness. Charles was either going to be the best thing that ever happened to him, or his undoing. 

Sighing as he took the sandwich, not bothering to glance at it due to a combination of lack of care and concentration on their increasingly heated conversation, Charles replied quickly, "I'll admit, I hadn't thought of that." He looked down after that, mostly due to shame that sprung from not realizing it was very possible that Erik had had this same sort of situation before. The scan he'd done of the man's mind would have been more than enough to decipher every fine detail of a normal, human, person's psyche. Erik though, was far from human, and what was applicable to a normal person was far from applicable to him. No matter how much digging Charles did, it always felt like he'd done nothing but dip his feet into the dark, swirling abyss, new memories and ideas appearing every time, but never enough to give him a clear picture of the vast timeline of Erik's life. 

Beginning to relent from the issue, Charles said, "I can come up with something, blood packs from the hospital, maybe? I may hold to firmly to my morals but I'm not completely inflexible and," he smiled," I think I could be the world's greatest thief had I the mind to pursue it." It was very clear to the telepath whenever anyone lied to him and, though Erik's serious tone should have been enough to ward off any more pressing of the issue, a quick, harmless check confirmed that Erik was indeed correct and simply looking out for his health. Still, Charles was not so quick to give up. There had to be other ways to go about fixing this, and he would find them before he stood by and let Erik take victims while he sat at home wondering if he'd killed them or not. 

Charles smile quickly faded, though not from the idea of Erik's slaughter. The lie detecting he'd done had left him more open than he'd thought, only realizing it once the slew of thoughts, all concerning how terribly unhappy he was perceived to be and how much healthier he looked in all the pictures adorning the fireplace and walls of the living room. "I'm not usually one to pry," he paused, tone uncharacteristically derisive," but I'd like to say I'm not quite as unhappy as you seem to believe I am.”

Erik laughed bitterly, "You're a telepath. Your entire modus operandi is based around prying," he paused and took quick note of Charles' constant obligation to appear perfectly moral about his powers, adding quickly, " And if it isn't, it should be. ". 

Making an annoyed glance toward the old clock in the corner of the room for no particular reason at all other than to have something to look at, Erik seemed to roll over a few quick things in his head before looking toward Charles out of the corner of his eye. " I'm quite enamored by your abilities, but I will say it makes being your friend a bit one-sided. Maybe I was off base.," Erik didn't really mean it to sound accusatory, but it was true that, while Charles could enjoy knowing every little idiosyncratic flaw within him, the metal bender was left only to digest whatever hand Charles chose to show him.  

Swallowing a bite of the sandwich and following Erik's eyes to the clock, Charles set it back down on its plate, rolling over to snatch a napkin from the table to wipe the crumbs from his fingers. Charles had stayed silent throughout Erik's commenting, only nodding as if he was greatly distracted. Glancing around the room as if some object could save him from his indecision, he tapped his fingers impatiently against the arm of his chair.

Forcing himself not to think of why exactly he was trying to gauge just how miserable Charles was, Erik pushed off the door frame with a sigh. He didn't bring up that blood meant for hospitals had some manner of anti-coagulant mixed into it that he couldn't digest, or that he'd have to eat twenty rats a night if he were to survive on the blood of small animals. The entire affair was going to be difficult for Charles to handle in all of his high moral consciousness despite Erik's miraculous urge to please him. 

" _Even if you weren't happy before, I suppose I'm more than an adequate distraction_ ," he projected, seeming to chew over his own words a second, rolling his shoulders and letting Charles eat as he ducked into the living room to snag a book off of his shelf. It was going to be a very long, boring night if Charles was going to expect to get some sleep and he was thankful for the small library of distractions.

Charles looked a bit surprised at the idea that befriending a telepath meant being forced to trust them with all your secrets without having that same free access. Truthfully, he'd never revealed to anyone the secrets of his mutation, never growing close enough to anyone to warrant that sort of trust. That, of course, isn't to say Charles hadn't had his fair share of girlfriends. They were all small flings though, the longest of them lasting half a year. It was difficult to keep up a relationship when the tiniest secrets were just waiting to be revealed at any moment. Funny it was that circumstance meant revealing himself to a man that was possibly the most opposite minded thing on the planet. 

After a good five minutes of finishing up his sandwich and dropping the plate in the sink, Charles rolled into the living room, looking determined as ever. He moved as close to Erik as his chair would allow him, stopping and pressing the break down before bringing fingers to his temple in a gesture Erik would surely recognize. "I thought a bit about what you said. About our friendship being one-sided," he started, seeming more nervous as he went on, "It isn't really fair that I know everything about you and all you know of me is my tendency towards shady characters." Laughing as if to break the ice for himself, he continued, "I can allow you the same freedom of my mind that I have in yours, if you'd like. Briefly, but enough to even the playing field a bit."

“Interested?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

There was a quick snap of the heavy book in response to the proposition followed by a small flutter of excitement on the vampire's end over the prospect of getting to experience whatever it was that Charles had running through him. Setting it down on the coffee table as he passed, Erik eagerly came to stand before Charles, crossing his arms as if he wasn’t quite sure of what he was signing up for with his agreement."While I am not quite certain that opening your thoughts up to someone like me, is again, the best idea for you, caution has clearly been thrown to the wind at this point. “ he paused, moving a few paces to snatch one of Charles’ chairs and place it before the telepath, ”I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't terribly, terribly curious.”

“I can’t say I’ve done this before, but I’m almost certain you can’t harm me during,” Charles glanced to the side, taking a moment to stare off into the distance as if to remember something pertinent in that moment. Laughing a little, he shook his head, looking back to Erik and saying playfully, “Almost.” Telepathy wasn’t something Charles imagined anyone but him was very used to and, due to that alone, it would probably be impossible for Erik to do any damage. Of course, there was always the possibility of Erik’s pure ineptitude mucking something up, but Erik was clever and careful. Most likely, he wouldn’t exceed any bounds.

Taking a moment to settle himself, Erik dropped down to level with Charles as his arms came to rest on either of the arms of the chair. Squinting inquisitively, he said, “If you don't mind my asking, what exactly is the point and purpose of this", Erik's fingers lifted to touch his own fingers to his temple to mirror Charles' little twitch that he seemed to execute every time his telepathy was involved. "Does the gesture help or is it purely for the sake of theatrical ambiance?” 

Laughing again, this time with greater jubilance, Charles said, waggling his fingers near his head, “I ran some tests concerning that silly gesture, actually. Conclusively, I found its just a sort of tick I picked up from childhood. Touching your temple to make your brain do things makes sense when you’re a child, I suppose.” Charles smiled pleasantly at the other man, finding it curious he’d asked. 

As much as Charles was enjoying their little conversation, there was something much more interesting at hand and he wanted nothing more than to get on with it. Closing his eyes, he wordlessly leaned forward, putting his fingers to Erik’s temple. With a small, mental prompt, he coaxed Erik to lean forward until their foreheads just about pressed together. _Close your eyes_ was the last thing said before Charles dragged Erik under.

It was sort of like forcing someone unconscious, the way Charles stifled Erik’s brain activity until there was just the barest hint of thought moving about underneath the smothering. Though it seemed that Charles had transferred Erik’s pure consciousness into his own mind, it was more that he’d created a near tangible bridge between them, only quelling Erik’s activity as a way of holding back the flood long enough for Erik to have a look. With a normal person, it would have been incredibly difficult. With Erik, had Charles not been managing it somehow, he’d have believed it impossible.

Evidently, if the unending, horizon-less space they were somehow standing in was any indication, it was very possible indeed. Charles had created world’s before, just for himself as a bored, lonely child, making this stark white space devoid of any feature, save for a row of twelve doors, simple enough. It had to be simple to ward off the danger of unravelling. Anything more than the ground plane, only there to provide a familiar sense of spacial relation, and the flimsy wooden doors and Charles would have to cut their already short time in half.

Standing before Erik, hands buried in his pockets, Charles grinned at Erik as he awoke, awkwardly slumped over but still, remarkably on his feet. “It’s good, isn’t it?” he bragged, voice carrying a strange, echoed distortion. “Spectacular, Charles,” Erik breathed out as his head snapped up at the reality that Charles was standing. Of course, he would be walking here, where he could see himself however he would've liked.

Charles loved the mutual understand between them as much as Erik did, never having to explain even the most complex of concepts concerning his mutation to the other man. Before he could remark on how pleasant it was, he was cut off by a stream of thoughts, stemming very obviously from Erik. Charles had never given much thought to his form in his mental space, not really thinking about how strange it must have been for Erik, who had never seen him standing, to see him as he used to be; all the little gestures that made Charles who he used to be coming out. 

Motioning with his head to their right, where the doors lay, black text forming upon the wood to read things such as **HIGH SCHOOL** , **CHILDHOOD** , and, at the end of the row, **ACCIDENT** , Charles said, “I supposed it would be easier to run around my head if I made it more straight forward. Not all of us are used to this sort of thing and it'd take far too long to show you the ropes.” Making his way to one of the doors, he took a hand from his pocket, using the free arm to lean on the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles in a casual sort of way that seemed entirely unnatural on the Charles that Erik had come to know. "Pick a door.”

Being spun through space and time into some other sort of reality that seemed to exist only in Charles' mind didn't seem to to shake Erik all that much. There was no panic in him, only pure unbridled fascination as his fingers combed over a door. Despite a slight distortion at the corner of his cone of vision, everything seemed to feel and look real, even Charles standing there looking rather rightfully proud of himself. "If only all humans were capable of simply taking a walk through another's thoughts. I dare say it'd be a much kinder place,” he said under his breath.

Grimly Erik glanced toward the door that read **ACCIDENT** , scowling as he passed it, fingers trailing the door to feel the rough oak. “Subtle,” he commented softly as he moved onward to point toward the door that read **CHILDHOOD** instead, “I'm not sure jumping into the worst of it is the best of ideas“

Where Erik had to walk, Charles simply teleported, coming up instantly behind Erik, eyes down as Erik’s hand turned the knob. “Not the worst of it, but not the best,” he stated plainly, following Erik into the engulfing darkness. As soon as the pair was in, Charles shut the door, the frame itself disappearing into the void. Quickly, things began to take shape. The lights came in first, an ornate tiffany lamp becoming the first shape in the darkness that was quickly forming into enormous library, walls sliding downwards from the blank sky to form the rectangle of a room. Only feet before Erik, a tiny, pasty kid was curled up in an armchair with a pile of books around him, reading excitedly through a genetics textbook. It was innocent enough, only the muffled screaming of a woman from outside in the hallway breaking the illusion of happiness. Curious, little Charles pressed his fingers to his temple in the signature gesture, and, after a few moments, went white with shock, looking like he was about to vomit.

As quickly as the image came into being, it evaporated into nothingness, taking only seconds to shift dramatically to a bright, sunny day. Charles was there again, this time dressed in black, a flock of equally grim persons surrounding the main event: a coffin, the name BRIAN XAVIER inscribed on the golden plaque, being lowered into the ground. The woman was there again, a hand on Charles’ shoulder and the other intertwined in another man’s. 

Taking a step forward, Charles —the real Charles— grimaced, “Let’s move this along.” Instantly, the scene evaporated again, shifting back to the library, a place Charles seemed to spend quite a bit of his time in. Younger Charles looked up, drawn to some unheard sound, and was met with an encyclopedia, the spine landing smack in the middle of his forehead and causing the boy to wince and cradle his head in his arms. From behind the chair, the man from the funeral, a burly, disgusting hulk of a man, leaned over, grabbing Charles by the hair and forcing his head out of his arms to scold him for something as simple as leaving the front door unlocked.

The entire scene rippled unnaturally before fading suddenly like a television that’d been abruptly turned off, the darkness replaced almost instantaneously by the white, door-riddled room again. Shifting uncomfortably, hands still buried in his pockets, Charles smiled awkwardly at his companion, “I thought it’d be best to just show you the highlights. I can’t keep this up for long and there are many doors.”

The thud of the book against young Charles still had Erik reeling for a solid few seconds, even as time shifted around them. Something about it had made him feel as if his blood could in fact run hot all over again, flicking some deep memories of his own up that seemed to suppress themselves as quickly as they'd come. He'd assumed it was due to Charles' power over him, but he seemed distracted enough when he lifted his head again and found the same room he started with. 

As if being put forth on a rail and slid along through the tour of Charles' memories, it was hard not to feel things coming off of the 'real' Charles beneath it. The tug of emotions was like a sixth sense just then given how their minds were intertwined, leaned forehead to forehead alone in some house in Boston. It was so different than simply talking about it, all their emotions mixing together and washing over them in a way that made it impossible for Erik to remain unaffected, even if it’d be easier. . Apparently, he still did have some manner of sympathy left in him. 

"Highlights,” he repeated the word back to Charles, Erik already wearing his best scrutinizing look. Shaking off some unknown feeling he took a bold step toward Charles in a rare moment of open affection to rest a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it as he passed him. "I lost my father and mother when I was very young as well,” he declared, not quite sure how to comfort Charles with anything other than his own shared misery. Not wanting to dwell on what Erik’s had seen, Charles simply nodded grimly, looking up only when Erik unexpectedly placed his hand on his shoulder. It was clear Erik had taken a shine to him, but he hadn’t felt his heart flutter like that for a long while, feeling that Erik had truly taken to his friendship.

Glancing wearily toward a door that read **ROMANCE** , Erik quirked a brow as he boldly stepped past it for the same reason he seemed to breeze past the **TEENAGE** door. There was really no need to embarrass Charles with the little sticky fumblings that occurred in those years. Erik himself had no such luxury of really living a normal adolescent life, but given the state of teenagers these days, it wasn't really that hard to guess what was behind those doors.

Moving to the one that read **COLLEGE** , Erik stopped to look toward Charles as his fingers touched the handle, jumping as he found Charles had once again teleported, this time right by his side, a knowing smile plastered on his face. As Erik stepped inside, watching again as the world fell away into seamless darkness, his breath caught in his chest. The entire process, despite the morbid nature of it, was exciting. It was like being completely encompassed in a book. Though, Erik thought to himself, being so invested in the main character was proving to be a problem. 

“I think this may be my favorite one,” Charles said, stepping to the side theatrically to allow a clear view to the already fully formed room. It was a plain dorm, plain enough to anyone who’d seen the halls of any of Britain’s finest institutions, all old, worn wood and brick. Charles sat at what was evidently his desk, if the piles of genetics texts were an indication, scribbling away beneath a lamp as the moon shown in the sky outside his window. He yawned, taking a drink from his well-loved mug.  With flourish, he wrote the last word, sitting up to relieve himself from his bent position and stretching with triumph. Rather than go to bed, though, he simply took another book from the stack beside him, cracking it open to one of many bookmarked places and pulling a fresh sheet of paper out for more excited note-taking.

This time, rather than fading cleanly out, the scene rippled away like some terrible film effect. Behind Erik, silent and unseen, Charles was pressing his fingers to his temple, furrowing his brow and attempting to move things along.  Erik was thrust into a party, dozens of co-eds laughing and drinking around Erik, all paying him no mind. Charles was lit up in the corner, a crowd around him cheering. Unnaturally, the crowd shifted to the sides, sliding along the floor mechanically and without any actual leg movement to reveal Charles drinking down a headache inducing amount of alcohol. To the sound of a resounding cheer, Charles finished the last of it, cheering along with the crowd and tossing the empty container to clatter on the floor. Just like that, Charles took a girl in the circle by the waist, leaned down, and smothered her with drunken kisses. Somehow, he escaped a slap, instead receiving reciprocated affection and eventually being dragged from the circle and up the stairs. As Charles took the first step, he seemed to look right at Erik, raise a brow, and wink. Coming up again behind Erik, voice seeming just inches away, Charles said, “I don’t think I need to detail that,” with a laugh.

Again, the scene shifted, this time to a lecture hall, where Charles, despite looking young as ever, was giving a lecture of his own. It was just the tail end of it though, the real Charles not wanting to bore Erik with the logistics of whatever it was he was blabbering on about. After the crowd began to dissipate, a much older looking man appeared from seemingly nowhere, a firm hand on Charles’ shoulder as he congratulated him on his first guest lecture. The man seemed nothing but ecstatic for Charles’ performance, plaques of his academic excellence appearing on the walls of the classroom where they surely didn’t exist in real life. Grinning, he shook the man’s hand, thanking him and waving him off. Now alone, Charles looked around the classroom, leaned against the podium, and smiled to no one but himself. 

Everything shifted again, brief visions of Charles riding his bike through campus, enjoying a night out with his mates, or just sitting alone studying and preparing for his many classes flashing by in a headache inducing instant before the silent serenity of the white room was forced back to stand in for reality.  When the memories became quicker it was almost hard for Erik to fight back the ache of his own head in time with Charles, the world zipping past them in abstract glimmers of memory that seemed to happen simultaneously despite the way information flowed endlessly to him. He could feel the desk beneath his fingers setting in Charles' class, feel the sun on his face during a bike ride at sunset. He stared down at the now familiar floor of the hall of memories once more, eyes flicked up hesitantly as if he were making sure the ride had stopped again. 

Charles appeared a few feet from Erik, standing with a hand on his head and another fisted in his pocket. Squeezing his eyes shut, Charles rubbed his temple, "You'll have to pick just one more door, Erik, I don't think I can hold this for long without hurting myself. There'll always be a next time.”

"How you managed to balance telepathy, college, and drinking your peers under the table is a feat within itself,” Erik mused over the idea for a second as if he were going to continue before he felt some strain at the corner of his mind give way, listening to Charles' warnings seriously. " I suppose you're saving what happened between you and the blonde for next time, then? " Erik couldn't help but make a joke at what a complete hound his dear Charles had been before his life of scholarly solitude, chuckling briefly to himself as he paced a circle around Charles and eyed his remaining choices. He could've done this all night were Charles not losing his control by the second. With his time shrinking by the second, his choice was obvious.

"Always a good thing to balance the good with the bad," Charles said, smiling a little and giving his head one last concerned rub before returning his hands to their natural place in his pockets. He wanted to grin at Erik's cute joke, smile and quip back at him, but between mending the seams that kept ripping invisible tears in the space and an unpleasant certainty of exactly what door Erik was going to choose, he couldn't muster the energy. 

"I hate to pry, as you put it,” Erik said, tossing an apologetic look toward Charles. They both already knew which door Erik was going to pick well before he even began to approach it.  He stood deathly still before the door, the font seeming to bleed down the rotted wood as it read in bright letters **ACCIDENT**. Fingers dropping down to the doorknob, he could feel a small bit of resistance, as if, unlike the other doors, this one was locked by a heavy bolt.  As much as Charles wished he could smooth over this part of his past, drop the door down into the pit of infinite space and ignore it, it would be cruel to allow Erik freedom of his mind without allowing access the most curious corner of Charles' past, and, eventually, it would have to be brought up. With a heavy exhale, Charles disappeared and refused to reappear, the only sign of life in the nothingness the loud unlocking of the **ACCIDENT** door.

As Erik thrust the now-unlocked door open, it crumbled in a way unlike the others, falling apart before it'd even come to a close. The darkness was much like walking through a fog, thick tendrils of black lapping at Erik's skin until at last, just before the fog seemed engulfing, the scene was set. A cold winter air blew through what was evidently a normal street intersection, mostly abandoned thanks to the time of morning. Erik was on a street corner, a lamppost perfectly placed for him to lean against if he so wished. In the distance, just a bead on the horizon, Charles was coming to the intersection fast, evidently riding his bike. Strangely, after even a few minutes, the silhouette against the sun never seemed to grow any closer, Charles appearing to peddle in place for an unsettling amount of time. The wind stopped blowing, leaves quieting and birds silencing themselves all in one fell swoop as suddenly, the figure of Charles on the bike near teleported by Erik's side, passing him like a lightning bolt as, out of nothingness, a pitch black van appeared, as if in response.

There was a split moment before the collision, Charles turning his head to morph his features into a state of shock that would burn into Erik's mind. With an unpleasant crunch, the van careened into Charles, throwing him ten feet from his bike and slamming him into the street light Erik had been purposefully placed near. Charles made a gruesome picture at Erik's feet, staring up and past him as he groaned, the shock of what had happened overriding the pain. Blood pooled under the sole of Erik's shoes, sticky and a thousand times blacker than the real thing as it sputtered from a wound at Charles' head. Unluckily enough, Charles had been spared the pain of skidding along the concrete to a full stop, the pole helping him plenty and stopping him right in his tracks. 

It was clear the moment Charles registered the event, pained scream escaping his lips as he tried to move, propping himself up on his elbows and trying so, so hard to lift himself. The crack of bone, impossible as it was loud, was all Charles needed to hear to stop moving completely, still as the dead. He let himself drop to the concrete, lolling his head aimlessly as an ambulance screamed in the distance.  In an instant, everything fell apart, paining both Erik and Charles as the false reality was torn from their minds and they were forced back into real life. With a jolt and a gasp, Charles shot back and away from Erik, leaning against the back of his chair and breathing heavy and he squinted at the man, unused to the very real lighting of the room. His hands gripped the arms of the chair hard, nails digging in as he fought the urge to stand up. It was always like this whenever Charles let himself fade into the planes of consciousness, and really the only reason he refused to do it without good reason anymore. Face grim, Charles looked on at Erik, as if embarrassed by what Erik had witnessed. "I... I'm sorry I couldn't paint a more realistic picture," he apologized unnecessarily, explaining to Erik with his mind that emotions were getting the better at him, seeping into the carefully constructed memories he'd made to make clear the events, ”I hope it wasn't too abstract.”

While the original intent of this little exercise between the two mutants may have in fact been one of bonding and mutual honesty, it would later serve as a stark reminder of just what vast power the mind could have over the body. The memory of standing against that pole, the metal under his fingers and the smell of Charles' blood all thick in the air, it was all just as real to Erik as anything else for that moment. As if the realistic sensation of standing in the sun weren't enough to strike him with awe, the entire experience seemed punctuated with a bit of horror at the realization of how absolutely senseless the entire accident had been. 

 A long moment passed before the vampire responded, reality slamming back to him as the echo of breaks and ambulances took a moment to fade from his thoughts. Only when Erik realized he was once again in the living room did he suddenly jerk in his seat, as if he'd been burned by something. There was a soft sound heard throughout the living room in the same moment Erik had flinched, every small metal object in the room moving a few inches back in pure reflex. There were a few soft taps on the floor as Charles' fancy pens went rolling to the ground, some metal vase in the corner thudding its way to the floor. Genuinely a little startled for a moment by the over-ride of emotions that came with being tethered to his telepathic friend, a hand immediately came up to cover his face as he bent a little in his seat, trying to gather himself as he palmed at the corner of left eye, feeling an unfamiliar wetness. 

"No. It wasn't. It was— ", Erik mumbled, trying to wipe away his shame quickly and drop his hands to tuck them together in his lap. Finally, he forced himself to look at Charles again, wishing with everything in him that he could've just gone on and on about how magnificent his abilities were. Charles was incredible in ways that Erik couldn't have ever even imagined, and yet this moment of celebration seemed undercut by the content thereof. Out of everyone in the world that deserved what had happened that day, Charles was at the bottom of the list. Four hundred years of experience and life was still just as unfair and cruel as it had ever been.  

Realizing he hadn't said the majority of his followup out loud, Erik sighed and straightened a little, seeming to calm himself. " You're an incredible, exceptional creature, Charles Xavier.  Thank you for trusting me,” he mumbled quietly as he started to force himself to stand again. One day, he and Charles were going to have to have a very serious discussion regarding his condition. He already knew it was inevitable, given how he could feel his heart strings tug in all the wrong directions for the telepath. Erik could fix Charles. He knew that, even if the details of how were overlapped with regret and caution. 

Looking around the room at the little mess Erik had made, every tiny metal object finding a new home on the floor, Charles caught his breath. Quickly, he returned his gaze to Erik, surprised to find the man to be crying, or whatever it was vampires were able to do. He smiled softly, not wanting to embarrass him by mentioning it and instead just letting all the surprisingly sympathetic thoughts flow through him. Once he’d had enough of the sympathy, he closed the connection or, at least, he tried to. Frustration passed over his face, even as he replied to Erik’s kind words, “Thank you, Erik. I’m glad I could share that with you.” The sentence was said absentmindedly, Charles still battling his frustrations and attempting to seal close the connection he’d made between them.

It was lessening by the minute, shrinking to a fraction of the great openness it had been before, but, due to Charles’ exhaustion or some unknown issue that came with that level of connection, he couldn’t quite force it to close all the way. Charles usually could handle the barrage of thoughts but, given his state, he wasn't quite so keen on the idea. His true worry, though, was Erik. The man wasn't as used to it and, while he seemed ecstatic over what they'd shared, Charles wasn't sure he would enjoy that sort of consistent connection. Charles silenced himself as best he could in his condition, worried Erik had heard every passing thought.

Bringing his hands up from their natural position at the arms of his chair, Charles rubbed at his eyes, the mental exertion combining with an eight hour work day to drain him completely. Sleep was all he needed, he thought, hoping it would help ease the connection closed. Looking back to Erik, hands coming down to rest in his lap atop each other as they usually did, Charles said, “I think It’s best I got to bed before I pass out in this chair," yawning for accidental emphasis. He dreaded the lengthy routine, something that would take a less broken man only minutes, and sincerely hoped he didn't pass out half way through it as he, embarrassingly enough, a few times before.

 "Of course,” Erik replied, sounding somber and lifting his head to offer a nod at Charles' rather smart decision to get some rest. "Good night, Charles. I'll see you tomorrow, hm?” Erik mumbled as he ignored some feint urge to try to offer to help Charles before deciding against it. Given that the entire ordeal left even he, in all of his infinite strength, completely exhausted perhaps a bit of solitude wasn't the worse thing for him. He watched Charles leave, heading no doubt for his bedroom, and took a seat again, cracking open a book and thinking of everything but the text. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The first week seemed to go by fairly smoothly for the odd couple that had settled beneath one roof, alternating schedules awkwardly in a way that only allowed Erik a few hours of his telepathic friend's company in the evening before he'd already be ushering him off to sleep. The issue of feeding seemed to, at first, go over quite nicely as Erik had only inclined to take Charles up on it once since. No matter how stubborn Charles might have been, Erik wouldn't budge over the issue of giving his body adequate time to create new blood.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, it was becoming quite clear that Erik was going a little stir crazy. He'd snuck out once or twice over the week for the sake of a stroll and the smell of fresh air, but thankfully having a telepath as a friend tended to keep one rather honest. Erik had indeed kept hold of his urges as Charles had requested.  As the sun began to set and the last rays of light vanished from the sky, Erik's eyes drew hazily open. He'd grown rather accustomed to being immediately aware that Charles could hear his thoughts upon awakening, admittedly wondering if it was a trick of his mind that he could actually feel Charles fluttering around his mind as well. It made it all the more difficult to have those quiet moments alone with oneself, pondering over what exactly his creator would've thought of him now, being kept like some domestic house pet. 

Thrusting himself out from under the bed and standing before a mirror, Erik found he looked a little worse for wear, fangs hanging out and hair a mess. His thoughts were already starting to pull a little more toward the savage, feeling hunger start to ache in his bones again. Erik might have been a perfect gentleman, but one's nature was an entirely different matter. Sluggishly moving down the hallway he turned a corner, peering into the living room to look for his comrade. Erik caught Charles just as he was coming in, key still turning in the door to lock it. Feeling the man's mind close behind him, Charles turned his head, taking a much longer time to face him thanks to the difficulty of turning the chair around properly. With an exhausted smile, he greeted him, "Good morning, Erik," he said, chuckling to himself, "If I didn't know you any better, I'd just think you were an average college student, given your sleep schedule.”

"Ah yes,” Erik mumbled, never seeming even the slightest impatient at the length of time it took his young friend to do things. After all, time was a luxury firmly afforded to him by his condition. It however, did nothing to eb his sarcasm as he rolled his eyes and made a wide gesture at the room. "Welcome to Charles Xavier's Institute for the Gifted and Nocturnal. ".  

Punctuated with a signature smirk and a toss of his eyes in his head, Erik's tall, thin form was bending to glance at an antique mirror placed on the wall to smooth back his hair and try to make himself look less manic than he already felt. There was no magic that made his reflection disappear or ghostly monsters stare back at the vampire, just Erik trying his hardest not to think about the fact that the sound of Charles' heartbeat in the room was already distracting him.  

As if Charles weren't already distracting enough. If it were not for the fact that nearly every waking thought had been spent on the beautiful human placed patiently at his side, his lethargywould've already driven him out by now. There was no real polite way of trying to explain to the professor that keeping him inside was rather like trying to kennel a tiger, the way Erik was at complete mercy of all the predatorial traits that came laced with vampirism. Of course he had endless patience and some manner of control over himself, but labido and the aching thirst buried in his mind like a tick weren't helping things. "It's the weekend, isn't it?” Erik brought up lightly despite Charles’ jeering, sharp jaw managing to still hold a smile as he refocused his attention on Charles, dropping to sit on the arm of the couch in the living room and cross his legs at the ankles. How Charles tolerated the long hours and paper grading completely beyond him, he at least was thankful that the school could relinquish it's hooks from his handsome professor for a couple of days. "You'll have to forgive me for saying so, but I believe you're going to kill me of boredom keeping me here much longer.”

With a smile, happy to be home and even happier to see Erik again, Charles wheeled forward, stopping just before Erik as he usually did, always careful not to run over any toes. The instant he’d arrived back at home he’d touched Erik’s mind and, as instantaneous as their connection had been, so had the intense feeling of want that radiated from Erik. It felt different than it had the first time they met, even the first time Charles had allowed Erik to drink from him. Now, it was tinged with a dark sexuality, Erik’s desires for blood mixing gruesomely with a desire for flesh.

Charles wished very hard he wasn’t crippled in that instant, and, though it was for something as silly as sexual pleasure, it was more than a bit depressing. Not one to mope over absolutes long set in stone, he opted to enjoy what he could instead. With a knowing grin, he started shedding layers, first the scarf, then the too-large sweater that was really the only indication Charles was a professor at all, and, finally, the cardigan, until he was dressed in only his professional slacks and dress shirt. The clothes made an unkempt pile where he'd thrown them to the side, far enough that there was little chance of Charles' chair getting caught on them.

Unbuttoning the first few buttons of the shirt, he tilted his head to the side, running fingers over his neck, “Sorry to hear you’re so terribly bored, Erik,” he started, grin forming to a sly smile Charles hadn’t employed in years, “Luckily, as you said, it is the weekend. I believe I can stay up a bit later tonight if you’d like that.”

At first Erik didn't seem to have the faintest of notions over what exactly Charles was doing, appreciating simply watching the way Charles moved. It was only when he realized what exactly Charles was playing at did his attention seem to come to a sharp pin point on the telepath. Watching the way the professor's delicate fingertips traced the skin of his throat that Erik could still taste in his thoughts, the vampire's fingers grasped on the arm of the chair he sat tensed so hard it threatened to make the wood wail out. 

"Luckily indeed,” Erik about stammered when his voice found him again, unearthly blue gaze sharp and transfixed on Charles as if nothing else in the world existed right then. Charles being a telepath was either the greatest thing in the world or his complete undoing, given how he utilized it to know exactly what Erik wanted. Taking a tremendous breath, unneeded for anything other than courage, Erik pushed to his feet, taking a few slow steps in a pace toward his friend, “I have to admit this is already vastly less boring,” he mumbled. 

Doing something unexpected, the metalbender quietly stepped over Charles' fallen cardigan and boldly bypassed the pedals of his chair to rest a knee directly between his friend's legs, hands snaking down to rest on either side of the arm rests for balance as he drew in close.

It would've been quite keen of Erik to immediately sink his fangs into Charles and get this over with given how he could feel the vein in his throat throb with blood that he could smell through his skin. One of Erik's hands lifted to pull Charles’ hand away gently, lips coming to trail a gentle line up his throat. No bite, just Erik taking the time to kiss his way to Charles' jaw. " Do you have any idea what you do to me? “ Erik's proposition didn't come until he'd reached the skin just beneath his ear, realizing in fact Charles did know. 

Feeling the instant reaction in Erik was almost as good as seeing it. There was a particular pleasure in seeing such a well put together, ancient thing nearly break an arm of a chair through pure, unbridled sexual frustration. It was another thing entirely to feel that frustration flow through him, the near destruction of Charles’ furniture only accounting for a fraction of the need Charles could feel filling the room like steam. Erik wasn’t alone in his frustration, however, and Charles found his breath hitching the moment Erik stepped close, taking no time in closing the distance between them, hands already all over Charles. 

He brought his own to Erik, one hand coming up to thread fingers through Erik’s hair, the other fisting in the man’s shirt as he drew him closer. Charles knew it wasn’t the tug at his shirt that drew Erik in, feeling through the man the intensity with which Erik felt Charles’ pulse. It was a strange thing to be for Erik to be enticed by, but Charles knew all too well it was the primal side of him, that side Charles dangerously indulged, that loved it. Smiling softly as Erik delicately laid kisses upon his neck, he gazed lazily at the other man as their eyes met, Charles’ already half-lidded with lax pleasure. 

Charles knew exactly what he did to Erik, he knew better than anyone possibly could. Erik didn't really have to explain to Charles that he was growing fond of him, that he wanted him. Even if he couldn't, by all technicality, really have him the way he wished, it didn't seemed to bother Erik all that much if they could have little moments like this. It didn't even cross his mind that maybe Charles wasn't as adventurous in the realm of sexuality as he was, but in truth, Erik was just too old to care about something so trivial. Clearly, Erik had no compunctions over Charles' gender at all, given the way his hand released the thin of Charles' wrist, snapping up in favor of holding his jaw in the palm of his hand to turn his head, forcing their lips together gently. Another downfall of being with a telepath, having to, with all of his strength of will, try not to imagine dragging Charles out of his chair and simply ravaging him right there on his old persian rug.

Charles wanted very much to enjoy the kiss, closing his eyes and letting their minds meld at their lips did, but the terribly strong thoughts battering their way into Charles’ head regarding a very undersexed vampire dragging him to the floor and ravishing him became quite the distraction. Disconnecting from Erik far too soon, though not before teasingly trailing his tongue over Erik’s bottom lip, Charles whispered into his mouth, “I think I’d rather like that,” accompanying the words with lewd images of Erik taking him in his arms and gently laying him on the carpet before splaying himself atop Charles and sinking his teeth into he soft flesh of his neck. 

With the kiss broken, Erik only had a quick moment to look sour over the lack of contact before Charles' tongue and hot words were teasing him again, testing every shred of resistance within him. Between the flashes of downright salacious images lapping at his subconscious and the pure erotic taste of Charles against his tongue, his thoughts had boiled down to a strewn, chaotic mess.

There was no avoiding it now, every part of him throbbing with want for the creature alive and squirming softly in his arms when they pulled around him, claiming him and carrying his weight easily with his strength. The metalbender's breaking point was marked by the sound of the wheel chair slamming backwards and nearly being knocked over the coffee table when Erik yanked Charles free of it, a soft thud made as the professor was shoved down onto the carpet like the self-fulfilling prophecy of his imagination. 

The sudden absence of his chair came as a surprise, causing Charles to grip tightly to Erik even though he knew he would not drop him. He gripped too hard to the man’s hair, sending a quick mental apology even though Erik didn’t seem to mind. Whether or not it hurt him didn’t matter, Erik was far too caught up in Charles to notice anything. He could stab him through the chest and the man still wouldn’t stop coming at him, the immense craving overpowering the both of them until Charles wasn’t sure who wanted who, a mixture of need and pleasure swirling in their heads. As much as Erik was seemingly addicted to Charles, Charles lusted for the bite again, the intense feeling of living out the experience of both predator and prey utterly overwhelming. It was something Charles wanted to experience again and again, his insistence that Erik drink from him as often as possible more a selfish inclination than anything. Charles was very good at keeping to his morals, but more often than not it was because his morals suited him best 

Lips curling back a little at the feeling of fingers twisting in his hair, Erik's shifted his weight down over Charles to straddle him. There were a few soft sounds of plastic hitting the floor when Erik started to pull his dress shirt apart with little care for the damage done to the garment, fingers sliding along the thin of his ribs and feeling every bit of skin that Charles could still feel. Bending his head down like the graceful thing he was, his head tucked it's way against Charles' throat.  A single kiss seeking out the vein, his teeth slipped their way into his neck, puncturing skin in a quick motion and bringing that intoxicating flavor of Charles' blood pouring between his lips. It was hard to even take his teeth out, to not enjoy that feeling, the sounds Charles made. Sucking wantonly around the wound, Erik's eyes rolled shut.

Writhing against the cold touch, both from pleasure and pure instinctual flinching away from Erik’s icy fingers that his body fought to warm, Charles wanted nothing more than to take him by the hair and shove Erik down until his mouth just barely skimmed the surface of Charles’ skin. As if on cue, Erik complied, leaning down and pressing a single kiss to Charles before sinking his teeth in, eliciting a moan of pain that quickly turned to pleasure as the euphoria of the bite began again, this time edged on by a more sexual persuasion. It felt wonderful for the first moments, even better than it had the first time, and Charles was completely out of his mind, powerless to do anything but writhe against Erik, nails clawing at his back.

A strange, warm wetness startled him from the frenzy, leaving Charles with a pit in his stomach that reminded him he had felt this before. Lifting his head as much as he could with Erik attached to him like a leech, he broke from the pleasure, feeling instead a horrible pain as a torrent of blood spilled from his neck, painting Erik’s mouth seemingly without him noticing. Dropping his head down to a terrible squelch as thick carpet sought to absorb Charles’ life force, Charles began to feel light headed, blinking up at the ceiling and moving the hands that had been clawing at Erik’s back to his head, nudging the man to get his attention. 

Instead of screaming, Charles simply groaned in pain, sending waves of _nononono_  to Erik as he projected, “ _Why does it hurt. I don't think this is okay, Erik. Erik._ ” He trusted Erik completely, trusted him not to murder him, but in that moment, Charles wasn't so sure. There was a flicker of doubt, a brief thought that Erik, the clever, centuries year old thing that he was, had managed to trick him, to hide his intentions until the last drop had drained from Charles. The doubt was quickly thrown out, replaced with the more likely idea that Erik had simply gone too far, not known his own strength, and accidentally broken Charles. 

Whatever the reasoning was, Charles was certain something was wrong as he felt more blood pool on the carpet, a dizziness overtaking him. 

It took a moment for the words in his head to register, Erik seeming entirely taken by the task at hand. The smell of blood thicker in the air than usual only seemed to make things worse for the pair, writhing on the floor and whispered words of panic ignored. Blood went slipping past his lips, starting to come to fast to keep up with around Erik's eager lips. It was not his friend's panic or pleas that snapped him out of his state, but rather when Erik began to hear Charles' heart rattle in some terrible, horrifying rhythm. The sound made his stomach about drop out, jerking his lips away quickly to glance down at the wound that he made. 

Little had he known that by pure accident and overzealous hunger, his fangs had slipped just a centimeter too deep. There was already horror written all over Erik's face when he drew back to stare at what he'd done, his hand suddenly coming up frantically to close over the wound on Charles' throat and look down at him as the world went spinning off his axis. He'd already killed Charles. He'd killed him the minute that he'd sank his fangs into his throat, it was just taking death time to catch him now. 

"Oh— Oh god, Charles!” Equally horrified that Charles could hear the panic welling in him, his voice was already coming out uncharacteristically, cracking and frantic to accompany his wide eyes. Feeling blood slipping past his fingers, he stared in horror at what he'd done, the way the rug beneath Charles was becoming blotted out in the smell of blood that he, seconds ago, couldn't get enough of. "I'm so sorry. I’m so sorry, Oh god,” he stammered, mind sent reeling over what exactly he was going to do. There wasn't time to get him to a hospital, and given how much he'd rank coupled with the seconds ticking by for him, Erik was already trying not to quell into panic. He couldn't kill Charles! He couldn't. He'd never forgive himself. He already wasn't going to be able to, the image of fear welling in Charles' eyes burned into his mind for eternity. 

"You—," Erik swallowed down his fear. There wasn't time to panic, wasn't time to explain everything to Charles or to cry over how incredibly badly he'd fucked everything up. " You're going to die, Charles,” the vampire's voice shook in a tearless sob around the words, bending down to force Charles to look him in the eye as the pressure at his throat increased, trying for the life of him to slow the crimson leaking from his blood splattered throat. It was almost hard to believe it was happening, suddenly reminded of just how fragile human life was by the deathly rattle of Charles' heart trying to tear its way from his chest, organs choked with lack of blood and mind going white. Erik's free hand went up to his wrist, fangs pinched down hard on the skin of his own wrist and about torn off to make a wound large and open enough to hurt. Held up to Charles mouth, he looked as if he were handing Charles his death certificate. "There's no time to explain this— to say how sorry I am. I can't be,” he held up his wrist to Charles, staring for a long second and propping his head up for him as he felt weakness in Charles' muscles cry out. "I can't be the one that kills you, I can't. Please. You have to drink.”

Erik’s voice sounded quiet despite how apparent it was he was yelling, the light-headedness growing to much more than just that, Charles lolling his head to the side and flinching at the touch of Erik’s fingers putting a great pressure on his neck. The blood slipped through the cracks to meet the pool on the floor and Charles’ heart raced, doing nothing to help him and only quickening his death. He reached up, gripping weakly at Erik’s sleeve and gasping, afraid to speak. It hurt knowing he was going to die, the confirmation of its inevitability the only thing running through Erik’s head. Or, at least, the only thing he could pick up on. Focus completely on the life draining from his body, Charles’ blocks eroded to nothing, leaving him defenseless, all of Erik’s panic flowing into him and only serving to spike his own.

His mind was a haze, all of Erik’s words glancing off him as mumbled nothingness. Surely, the fog was slipping into Erik as well, but Charles didn’t have enough focus to care, slipping deeper into the stages of hypovolemic shock, skin paling by the minute as his body sought to grow as cold as Erik’s. Muscles failing, Charles’ arm thudded to the floor as the crimson pouring from his neck spread further, the carpet filled to capacity and forcing the blood to stain the hard wood.

Charles was confused, and far too out of it to consider it for longer than a moment, eyes fluttering between open and closed as he tried his hardest to stay conscious. The blood dripped into Charles’ mouth as Erik forced it on him and Charles resisted, turning his head but finding little strength to fight Erik taking his head in his hand and force-feeding him the freezing liquid.  

It didn’t taste how Charles knew blood was supposed to, no iron or warmth to it. The taste was indescribable, hovering on the crux between divine and unnaturally disgusting. Despite it and his impossible exhaustion, Charles found new strength the moment Erik’s blood touched the back of his throat, sitting up as much as he could bear and sucking greedily at the wrist until Charles’ mouth began to mirror Erik’s, barbarically red. He drank and drank until at last his strength failed him, Charles falling into the sticky puddle and gasping one last time, tears staining tracks down his face as he sighed out his last breath. Body going still, Charles stared upwards, as if even in death his entire being transfixed completely on Erik. 

The worst part of Charles’ death was the ease with which Erik could pinpoint the exact moment. Charles had drifted through Erik’s head throughout the entire ordeal, not having a choice in the matter thanks to his blocks failing. The second Charles’ pulse ceased he was ripped from Erik’s mind, undoubtably doing some damage in the process and going silent. He continued to stare, Erik's blood dripping from his mouth uselessly.

The last few moment's of Charles Xavier's human life on this planet were probably the worst memory Erik would ever have. A great deal of sick, vile things had been done to him in the past, many wrongs and cruelties that many couldn't even imagine, but to have something so stupid, so senseless happen trumped them all. The feeling Charles’ fear, betrayal, anger, sadness and fear all rolled up, coiling in Erik's heart and hooking their minds together, dragging Erik in with him through his death, would be something that would play on loop in Erik’s thoughts for years to come. 

With the vampire's face forced shut and his teeth ground together to keep himself from screaming out, he'd held Charles while he felt his body convulse a little in those last seconds. He'd held his fingers in his hair and tried to wipe his tears, tried with all his might to whisper that it was going to be all right despite how the words just came out in short, jutted cries. The second he felt Charles' consciousness torn out of his thoughts as if someone had taken Charles away from him, Erik all but tried to claw for the sensation again in his mind. Nothing. He was gone, just like that.It was like he'd lived the death with him, that nothingness and fear gripping him until the last second, eyes jerked open and drenched with tears. The only one to open up to him, to accept him and maybe even love him in hundreds of years, and this is what Charles' kindness had bought him. 

The creation of a vampire was something Erik had never taken on, not in all four hundred years had he found someone that he'd wish this sort of life on or that he loved enough to try to share eternity with, but out of all the people in the world to try it out on. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was doing, and the horror started to rise in him quickly that he wasn't even sure it would work. His own creation had been brutal and against his own wishes, just like Charles. As he drew back, Erik's eyes finally stared previously life-filled gaze of his friend, his mouth simply opening in a silence scream. Fingers jerking up over his mouth to stifle the loud cry that followed were marked with the sound of every single bit of metal in the house lifting in place and hovering for a moment before it was tossed a few inches to the left when Erik's form dove, sobbing his cries of Charles' name into his hair and drowning in regret.

Even long after Charles' body had gone cold in Erik's embrace, even after Erik had sobbed and cried until his throat burned hoarse, he couldn't stop the hate welling up in his heart, the reminder of what a monster he was laying dead and heavy in his arms. It was an hour later that he finally had steeled himself enough to stand and pull Charles up to carry him down into the basement, kicking the door open with his knee and stepping down in to the darkness, minding to carry Charles gently. As if he could do anything else to him. 

At some point, Erik had fetched a few blankets from an abandoned linen closet to lay out on the floor for Charles, wrapping him up and swaddling him to the best of his ability to shield him from the flickering florescent light overhead. The only thing more horrifying than the prospect that he'd simply walk back downstairs to a corpse the next evening was the idea that he'd be greeted by a full blooded new-born vampire, the memory of his own creation serving as a bleak reminder of the horrors of undeath. The thirst, the confusion, the strength, the regret. It all culminated to an experience that was both as thrilling as it was traumatic.

He'd about wrecked Charles' poor house by the look of things. Returning to the empty halls of melted metal was painful and he near flinched as he passed by the rug, but Erik had work to do before dawn, first of which was completely closing off any source of outside light in the home on the off chance that Charles woke up early or something equally terrible went wrong. Tagging a few stray sheets over the main rooms' windows or clothes-pinning the drapes shut, Erik couldn't even imagine how Charles would take to feeding. What if he Charles rejected the life entirely? What if he was bound to his wheelchair for eternity? Hated Erik until the day the sun burned out? 

Surely whatever retribution Charles had in store for him couldn't hardly match the way that Erik tortured himself, even now.Even for being a nocturnal creature, Erik seemed to stay in a half-awake trance some of the day, trying to check on him if he could summon the strength and fight the pull of the sun until he failed and fell asleep on his side sometime around noon, body exhausted and blood depleted so thoroughly that Erik wondered if he himself was at risk of dying, between loss of blood and a broken heart. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Charles lay dead until nightfall, a still corpse waiting to rot in the basement. An hour after sunset, life, or rather, the mockery of, shot through him, jolting him awake with a shrill scream. He scratched at the concrete as he awoke, clipping already short nails until nothing stopped the first few layers of skin from peeling away on the rough surface of the floor, Charles barely feeling the pain and certainly not taking any care to react to it specifically. Everything hurt, his mind and body aching without synchronization that made him feel more ill than he’d ever felt. His spine failing him had been only a fraction of the pain, the fullness of a hundred unique voices crowding his mind and threatening him with insanity combining with the sheer feeling of wrongness.

Suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, Charles sat up, enough sense left in him to stop himself from choking on his own vomit. Keeling over, he threw up the rest of the good, human blood that left his body just as Erik’s had entered. The mixture burned as it shot out his throat, the thick, near-black blood splashing against the floor to stain the concrete forever. 

Once he’d at least felt he’d rid his body of the last of it, Charles collapsed on the floor, writhing and screaming as nerve endings fired themselves away into nothingness, each one giving one last screech before fading away and dying along with the rest of Charles’ body. The worst were his legs, long dormant and springing to life with all the fire of a beast trapped for almost five years. They too sputtered out and died, though not before spreading a fiery pain all across Charles’ lower half where previously there had been nothing. 

It came as a surprise that he could still feel the concrete against his face and the vomited mixture sticking to his clothes, the supposed death of his nerves sealing in Charles’ mind the end of feeling. There was little time to ponder the idea as still hundreds of minds collided together in Charles’, leaving him aimless and sure only of what he could physically feel. Too many voices speaking all at once in Charles’ ear, he opted instead for sleep, eyes rolling back into his head and deathly silence overcoming him once more.

Awaking from a nightmare only to be thrust back into one, Erik’s eyes jerked open at the sound coming from the basement. His legs started moving before his brain, propelling him to the basement door's handle. Thrusting it open, he near threw himself down the steps. Taking them two at a time, he only had enough time to see Charles drop his head down into the blended concoction of blood and vomit on the floor. He should've been happy just then, given how he'd spent the majority of the day torturing himself over whether or not the entire process of creating a new life for Charles would work, but as Erik paced forward into the artificial light it no joy overcame him. Tilting his head to observe the pale color Charles' skin had taken on, white like snow under the gaudy flickering light against the backdrop of the blood strewn everywhere, he cautiously approached.

" Charles?” he mumbled, trying to see if he were responsive before leaning in close. He spread his hand over Charles’ forehead, taking in the unearthly cold as he brushed his hair back, frowning. He should have been happy the process seemed to have worked, but still there was distinct guilt over knowing that he’d essentially forced Charles into a life he may have been better off not having. Having himself been forced into unlife, Erik knew better than anyone what it meant. He’d wanted to give Charles a choice, promised himself he would, but if Erik had learned anything in his centuries of living, it was that nothing ever went according to plan.

Trying not to think of just how angry the telepath was going to be when he woke up, Erik had slowly found his way back up the stairs to set about the task of getting a bowl of water and a rag to clean Charles up. Coming back down, he knelt beside Charles, pulling his head into his lap. Sickened by the lifeless cold of his previously warm and responsive skin, Erik bent to gently wipe the blood away from his mouth, trying to pull his fingers through his hair once more but finding it near impossible thanks to the heavy caking of drying blood.

Only hours later and again Charles was awoken with a startling jolt, gasping for a breath he no longer needed to take and clawing for purchase as unlife was thrust into his corpse of a body. Instead of concrete, he this time found soft skin, as cool as his, and comforting in its very existence. Realizing he was being cradled like a child, he nuzzled into the comfort, rather than pulling away like his panic had wished. While the physicality was pleasant, the loud overbearing slew of thoughts that spilled from Erik’s head to drown Charles was not. Suddenly finding the strength to move, he shot his hands to his head, as if an encompassment of flesh would be enough to stop the flood. 

The voices refused to stop, hundreds still flooding in and threatening to consume him as their disjunct confusion combined with the seemingly tripled senses Charles had received, hearing, seeing, and smelling near everything there was in the dank basement. The new found power would have been pleasant had it not only added to what was already a sensory overload, the only thing keeping Charles grounded to himself the familiar smell of Erik, now a thousand times more potent, and the comfort of his arms. He moved further into the man, turning onto his side and grabbing at Erik’s clothes to hide his overflowing head from the world. 

Cloth nor flesh could help him weather the storm it seemed, as still the telepath was battered by the crowd of minds. The only refuge seemed to be Erik’s mind, speaking loudly to him and seemingly purposefully filling Charles with emotions of surprised delight and an impossibly intense sense of relief. Charles latched onto that feeling, hooking himself into Erik’s head as best he could and cementing the bridge, finding the strength to throw up walls now that there was a familiar mind to anchor himself to. Finding his own mind, senses, and body a foreign mess, it seemed the only option at the moment was to cling desperately to Erik’s. He wanted to apologize for the intrusion, but couldn’t find the words, nor any for that matter. Instead, he unburied his head from the rumpled cloth, looking up at Erik with eyes that were horrifyingly bright, so pale they nearly blended with the whites and carrying a grim gaze that presented a stark contrast to the lovely serene blues he’d had in life.

Forehead creased in pain, he said only, “Erik,” drawing the name out and finding it strange to speak with his newly formed teeth, his lip twitching in reaction and his tongue coming swiftly over one of the tips as if he’d just now noticed them. As he passed the name over his lips, still stained with red, his pupils turned to pinpoints, though it was impossible to tell if it was from an unbridled rage or something less assuredly destructive.

Folding the waking figure in his arms, Erik pulled him up and tried his damnedest to find the words to say, find someway to apologize for what he’d done. He tilted his head a little at the sound of his own name and the shifting of the thin, fledgling vampire in his arms, Erik's fingers finding their way to the sharp line of his jaw. Sliding fingers along skin to keep Charles' gaze, gazed down inquisitively at Charles, as if he was simply studying the creature in his hands. No matter how quickly Charles had changed before his eyes, it was still Charles laying there in his arms.

" There wasn't anything else that I could do,” Erik explained without much pretext, his voice dipping soft. Eyes darting and his tone coating in quick regret, the vampire's fangs flashed as he spoke, trying his hardest not to note how exotic Charles looked with a set of his own. " Not unless I wanted you to die. And I didn't. Selfishly,” he mumbled, squaring his jaw and trying to find conviction in his explanation. 

Charles used Erik’s clothes for purchase, reaching up and gripping at his collar to pull himself up Erik’s body. He moved his legs without realizing it, as if the memory of how to move his muscles hadn’t been lost even if time had tried its hardest to tear it from him. Crawling to his knees, he let weight on them for the first time in years before collapsing again in Erik’s lap, this time straddling the man, his head in the soft space between Erik’s neck and shoulder. Sighing deeply, letting himself relax as the voices in his head quieted, the refuge he had taken in Erik’s mind allowed him to near silence them. It was strange, acting like a parasite in Erik’s psyche. Charles felt wrong doing it, like he was using the man, but if it was the only thing that would save him the pain of a thousand voices, it would have to do. At least, until he found enough strength to force back the blocks that now seemed only a measure to protect his sanity.

Feeling the newborn teeth in his mouth, tongue running over them incessantly like they didn’t belong, Charles leaned down, running the razor tips against the skin of Erik’s neck. It felt natural to want to pierce the skin, to sate the immense hunger, but Charles knew it was wrong. Not with Erik. The hunger that throbbed in his veins told him it would never work with Erik. The feeling of Charles' eager fangs only grazing the skin of Erik's throat had sent shivers jolting through him, thrown off completely by the attention given he'd expected the telepath to be filled with hate over what had been done to him. Everything in Charles' life from this point on would be turned upside down. His entire perspective and drive on life, the idea that death and illness could no longer easily find him; these were the finer points of accepting ones fate when it came to becoming what the the two men were, now knotted together like snakes on the basement floor. 

Wrapping his arms around him, Charles gripped him tightly, digging sharp nails into the cloth of Erik’s shirt and clinging tightly. Taking a breath without feeling the air hit his lungs, Charles finally replied after a long silence, “I… I think I understand,” he said, without really coming to much of an understanding at all.

It was clear Erik had turned him, had been forced to turn him thanks to his deathly mistake. There were too many things to process, too many voices, too many new feelings, and too many things gone forever. As much as he knew he should have been angry with Erik, should have been furious at him for forcing what he knew to be a curse onto him, there was too much going through his head for him to focus on the rage for even a second. Rage still mixed with the myriad of new feelings though, underlying many of his thoughts and forcing his nails deeper into Erik’s sides. 

“I’m starving, Erik,” he said, leaning back and staring into Erik’s eyes, expression unsettlingly blank as he looked at Erik like the predator he’d never been in life. It was completely unnatural on Charles, and Charles impressed the idea onto him, easily projecting it thanks to the bond both the turning and Charles' new mental acuity had earned them. He did indeed have a rage in him, but, unlike Erik, his was an eternal simmer, a stark contrast to Erik's quick, impossibly hot, burn.  
He pulled his head back to meet Charles' gaze as he spoke, the projections coming more and more naturally now as Erik came to enjoy knowing what he thought, however morbid it seemed. Ethereal gazes locked on one another, Erik finally managed to smile a little a ghost of a realization when he felt Charles shift against him.

" Of course you are,” Erik mumbled slyly despite the tired ache in his voice and the sound of his nerves still uncoiling themselves. His newborn vampire not being the only one starving between the two of them, Erik started to shift Charles gently, clearing his throat. "You aren't going to understand this right now, but with your new condition comes a lot of really strong emotions. Pretty much everything changes. How you see, how you hear, how you smell. But you're still yourself. It just takes time to remember that,” Erik’s voice came out a little more confidently now, "Controlling yourself is going to be difficult. With your abilities, feeding should be easier. You don't have to kill anyone, and, as you're not alone in this endeavor, I'll try to keep you from doing anything you'll regret. "

The promise pouring apologetically between his lips was about all he could do for Charles to offer any sort of right to correct what had been done. With his palm dropping to splay on the cement, Erik actually looked like he was having a hard time dragging himself to try to stand up. It took a moment to find his strength as he pulled up uneasily to his feet, "I wasn't even sure I was capable of creating another vampire, to be honest. Yet, here you are. Miracle of miracles,” he said quickly, not elaborating that the last twenty four hours had been some of the worst of his life. 

"Speaking of miracles,” Erik started, extending a hand down to Charles and clearing his throat. “I had a very sneaking suspicion when I met you that there was another side-effect of vampirism that you may be interested in. " A pause was taken and Erik squinted suggestively down at Charles. " Get up. "


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments! :3

Get up. Two little words that’d meant nothing to Charles for years. It took him a moment to realize what they meant. He knew what they’d meant just yesterday, or, rather, what they use to mean. Now, kneeling before Erik, brow quirked and head tilted a bit in confusion, the very moment of realization struck across his face like a lightning bolt, lighting up his features in dazzling recognition of what Erik had gifted him. Grabbing Erik’s outstretched and friendly hand, he gripped it tight, lifting himself on new legs.  As Charles reached his feet he stood shakily, leaning forward to cling to Erik and keep himself steady. In a second, Charles’ shocked expression had turned to one of pure, unbridled happiness as he realized the perfect miracle Erik had performed. Squeezing Erik tightly in his arms, he disconnected just enough to look at him tearfully, smashing his lips against Erik’s in a sloppy kiss, the heedless fangs of the fledgling vampire slicing small cuts in Charles’ frenzy. 

Pulling away only to stare down at the miracle Erik had performed, he brought nails to his thigh, scratching and clawing until he reached skin, fingers first tracing down lightly before turning sharp to claw a few  lines down the skin. It was a brutal display, to see Charles slice red down his own thigh, but to the telepath at least, it made perfect sense. Finally, he could feel. It was amazing tracing his fingers down the skin, but Charles had to be sure it was more than just a trace feeling, and the small pain of the equally small cuts confirmed it to him. Laughing hysterically, Charles brought his hands to his mouth, laughter turning to deep, ugly sobs as he turned again to Erik, burying his face in the man's chest, his entire body shaking. Words caught in the fabric of Erik's shirt, Charles projected them alongside his speech, "Thank you, Erik. God, Thank you. This is a greater gift than I could ever imagine." 

Still graced with a drunken smile as a result of Charles' abundant gratitude, Erik couldn't help but still feel the tingle of Charles' lips on his own, the little cuts at his bottom lip still stinging as he spoke as a result of his telepath's haphazard attempts at physical gratitude. "Life has a very funny way of working out sometimes,” he mumbled around the bitter joke that life had nothing to do with it. Despite the bitterness a solid _You're welcome_ bubbled up in his thoughts. In that moment in particular, Erik's train of thought could hardly be mapped, mind jumping between wonder over Charles exploring his new lot in life and cautious optimism over making what now appeared to be the correct choice. It was something that he'd debated over since he'd first stepped foot into Charles' life, whether or not the telepath would've traded in his human life for the ability to no longer be caged by his own body. 

Stepping back —what a wonder that was — Charles stood at attention, staring with a smile at Erik for a solid few minutes before the distinct feeling of the metal doorknob turning was felt by the both of them. Down the stairs, came an average man, not particularly attractive nor intelligent, and utterly unaware of his surroundings, staring onwards with a blankness that did not describe a man of consciousness. Charles came up behind him, running his lithe fingers over him to undo the man's scarf, throwing it off without care and standing behind the prey. Smooth skin of the neck exposed, Charles trailed his hand over it, beckoning Erik over with his mind and smiling at him, projecting the words, _I brought a gift for you as well._  


The human that appeared seemingly from nowhere was surprising to say the least. Somehow, Erik understood. Whether it was thanks to Charles gripping tight to their connection or his own acceptance of the unbelievable, Erik wasn’t sure. What he was sure of though, was the hunger the continued to gnaw painfully at his entire body.   Stepping forward to stand before the man, the elder vampire's fingers lifted in front of the human's eyes, waving and watching the lack of response with a perplexed look. Looking over the man’s shoulder, he peered as Charles quizzically, “Your mutation. It’s different, isn’t it? Stronger, by the looks of it.” _By the feel of it too_ , he couldn't help but add mentally. He kept feeling his fingers twitch against their own accord every few seconds, could feel Charles' happiness and chaos bleeding into him every time he tried to have a thought of his own. It was almost relaxing, not to be alone in his head. 

I _think so, though it hurts. Quite a bit. I can’t focus on anything right now unless its through you. I… hope you don’t mind_ , Charles projected, knowing already that Erik quite liked the company, even if it was the rather invasive sort. Despite Erik’s confirmation, Charles couldn’t help but feel a bit like a terrible parasite, wrapping himself up in Erik’s thoughts to shield himself from the onslaught of a hundred others. Eventually, he’d be able to come to control it, but, with other new sensations to explore, now was certainly not an optimal time.  Turning his attention back to the stranger, Erik grabbed at his wrist instead of the tender skin of his neck, given that he’d very recently accidentally killed someone with such a bite. Biting down at the skin beneath the stranger's palm, Erik sucked quickly and without much sensual nature to the bite, taking what he needed in a way that showed Charles the solid difference between how he felt about him and a random meal from the street.

Rounding the man to stand beside Erik, Charles watched intently, taking note more on the restraint Erik put on himself than the actual action, his telepathy serving him better than his eyesight. With a small smirk, he regarded how neutrally Erik fed on the man, watching him go through the motions as mechanically as possible, completely treating the person like nothing more than the food source he had come to be. There was a bubbling of pride within Charles upon the realization that Erik feeding on him had been nothing like this. It was already widely known to both Charles and Erik that they considered each other more than predator and prey, but seeing the blunt difference in physicality was a treat Charles was happy to indulge in, patting himself on the back for managing to be interesting even as a broken professor.

As Erik took just the barest amount to satisfy his need, Charles felt too as if he’d fed, though the gnawing did little to subside. It was strange to feel almost full without having eaten a thing, but it made it easier to separate his own feelings from Erik’s, helping to bring Charles from the haze and piece together another part of his blocks. It was nothing more than a fence compared to the iron gate Charles would eventually need to erect, but every inch  helped and Charles was nothing but grateful to have even the slightest bit of his own headspace back. 

The human's blood already pumping through his veins and returning his strength, Erik adjusted his once exhaustedly lax posture, twisting the stranger's hair up in his hand and pulling his head sideways to expose the unmarred skin of his throat. Voice low and tempting, Erik's sharp gaze lifted to beckon Charles forward with a gesture of his head, ”Come here. If you listen very closely, you can feel out the vein that you want. You have to be careful if you don't want a repeat of what happened to you.” The thoughts drifted between parental and regretful over the content contained within them, strong arms holding the man still and prepared for Charles. _Drink_ , Erik's thoughts urged softly. _It’s time you got your fangs wet._

Advancing on what Erik had made an even more tantalizing display, exposing perfectly the unbroken skin of the neck that seemed to have been left just for him, Charles joined Erik by the man, fingers running delicately over the flesh. With an unsure glance at Erik, Charles leaned down, fangs just centimeters above the skin. Closing his eyes, Charles zeroed in on the sound Erik had told him to pick out, using Erik’s own aged wisdom and experience as a guide. With thanks to Erik, Charles found it in an instant, and, only seconds later, drove his teeth in, instantly breaking the skin and attaching himself, arms coming up to hold still the victim that had already been stilled by Charles’ mental will alone. As he drank, Charles grew more bold, no longer timidly sucking and instead taking his fill, stopping only when he felt a thrum in the back of his head, surely Erik, telling him that was enough.  Disconnecting without flourish, Charles lapped at the remains of the liquid as it dribbled down the shoulder, giving little care to how gruesome a display it was. With red painting his lips the way they’d looked in life, Charles smiled at Erik, exhaling from the pure ecstasy and finding it too much work to muster his voice, _As much as I’d liked living this vicariously through you, there really is nothing like the real thing, is there?_

 Without waiting for an answer, Charles forced Erik’s hand without realizing it, the sheer will of the telepath overriding any motor control Erik had and forcing him to cut a line in his own wrist with a nail. Charles just stood back, arms crossed and watching as he moved the pawn, Erik dribbling his own blood onto the man’s neck and wrist, effectively closing up any evidence of the feeding, though certainly not giving back to the man any lost blood. After the invasive deed was done, Charles’ mind allowed Erik back his body, Charles himself completely unawares of the intrusion. He stood back, watching the display proudly, glad Erik had enough compassion in him to save their victim any pain.  Without any fingers gracing his temple, Charles forced the man back upstairs, out the door, and onto the street, relinquishing his control only after a little mental wiping, just for his own sake.

As the sound of the door closing upstairs echoed out throughout the old home, Erik flexed his hands, looking down at them for a moment before bringing his same interestingly bewildered gaze to Charles .That was going to take some getting used to. He didn't bother pointing out what Charles had done, given that nothing seemed entirely wrong or harmful about it. Figuring, if the man really wished to know his opinion he could simply pluck it from his head, Erik remained silent on the issue, flexing his arms again to be sure his body was his own. The act of Charles forcing his body into action, being trapped in his flesh as only the pilot behind a useless console of dead switches and broken knobs, should have been downright horrifying. Given the supernatural inclination of his life since birth and the cosmic odds that constantly played against him, it really wasn't a hard pill for him to swallow. What else had he been expecting? Charles was a telepath and such things were in his nature. It was thrilling, and beautiful, and strangely intimate in a way that he couldn't have even begun to put into words. 

"There really isn’t,” Erik said, reply delayed from the hijacking his body had received. If there had been anyone present to witness the two right then, they would've thought Erik mad, considering he’d replied to nothing. It almost felt silly and useless to speak, given the way Charles already could hear what he was going to say before it left his mouth.  While Erik was quite aware that the young vampire was powerful in his human life, it was dawning on him now that he might have created something new, something special and more powerful than anything the world had seen. A singularity. That's what Charles was. Staring forward over the room, eyes trailing absently to the angry little claw marks on Charles' leg. The wound had mostly healed, but it reminded him why it was all worth it, despite whatever danger might be present or how wildly different from himself his newborn vampire might be.

Some angry, red, hot thoughts boiled up in his mind as he chided himself over how much his creator would've wanted to get his hooks into the telepath. The memory rode with it the fact that he'd been changed in hopes of finding a weapon within his gifts, and carried an irony that here one sat before Erik now. Thank God that Charles was the do-gooder that he fronted, even in feeding exhibiting a level of after-care Erik would never have afforded a stranger. Not wishing to ruin their little moment with the black torrent of his thoughts, Erik smothered himself, shoving down his anxiety and fears.  A look was tossed over his shoulder and a plea for Charles to not inquire further into the hollow of his thoughts and the darker subjects lurking around in them, Erik's fingers came up to gesture Charles along up the stairs. 

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” Charles was still, after all, soaked in vomit and blood and smelled like death, “We don't have much time until the sun comes up, and something tells me I needn't explain to you the first and foremost rule of vampirism.” Flashing a weak smile, he moved up the steps, pausing when he reached the top and pulling the door open.  Charles diligently followed Erik up the stairs, stopping in the living room for just a moment to take in the scene of his death. He glanced over the wheelchair, trying not to look at it too long but finding himself drawn back to it, eyes trailing from the blood stained rug to where the chair resided in the corner. Placing his hand on Erik’s arm for just a moment to stop him, he gave him a serious glance, needing no words nor telepathy to broadcast his meaning. Charles' fingers trailed off as he advanced on the wheelchair. Moving slowly as if it were something that could be spooked, he crossed what seemed an immense distance before finding himself before it. Leaning down, Charles went through the motions, eventually managing to fold it in on itself. He stayed like that for a few minutes, bent over the folded chair, leaning all his weight on hands that gripped it tight until his knuckles shone whiter than deathly pale skin. 

Standing up again, his back to Erik as he brought his hand to his face to wipe his sleeve over his eyes, he exhaled deeply, a smile forming. With flourish, he whipped around, turning to Erik and rushing over to him to grab him by the hand and grin wildly. Without a word, Charles near dragged him up the stairs, rounding the corner of the landing and coming to the bathroom. He thrust open the door, letting Erik’s hand free again and bending down to turn on the shower. Once it was on and the water gradually heating, Charles glanced around the room with the air of a man in a foreign place. Though it was his home, the upstairs hadn’t been his for the past five years. Re-discovering the second story would be a joy, but for now the bathroom alone proved curious enough to give rise to Charles’ happiness.  Laughing a little, he turned to Erik, drawing himself in close and absently trailing his fingers down the collar of Erik’s shirt, “You’d think I’d miss the immensity of the downstairs shower,” he said, projecting an image of the shower he’d had refitted to accommodate his paralyzed form. Hands coming to the end of Erik's shirt, he tucked his fingers under the cloth, tapping expectantly at his stomach, “Would you like to join me, my friend?”

"Something tells me you already know the answer to your question,” Erik mumbled around a wry smile, retort coming in time with a dark brow quirking suggestively. There was that feeling again creeping up in Erik, like when he'd nearly broken the arm off of his host’s chair. It would've been quite easy to just attack Charles at the invitation and let some pent up sexual frustration out on him, but instead the older creature chose to take his time. Just as the telepath's cool fingers tapped on his skin did Erik's own come up to gently push his hair back, bending to meet his shorter height and press a kiss against the side of Charles' jaw.   Greeting Erik’s words with a grin, Charles welcomed the now familiar touch, leaning instinctually into the comfort it brought. He wanted to dive in already and smother Erik with kisses again and, as the taller man leaned down to swoop in past his lips, Charles moved to meet him thinking and hoping Erik was moving instead to kiss him. Charles had completely anticipated the action, a by product of their now joined minds, but the immense distraction of his sexual frustration had gotten the better of him, sending his mind into a fizzle, his physical wants overriding any sort of premonitions. 

The telepath's shirt was lacking buttons from where the vampire had ripped them the night prior, the blood still cemented into the fine linen so thick that he could still smell it. Finely toned arms slid languidly along Charles’ to roll the fabric back slowly and expose his shoulders to the air, dragging the fabric down until it was bunched behind Charles' back to render his hands away from him for a moment. Erik took the opportunity to sweep in and kiss Charles the way that he'd want to the night prior, before everything had gone nightmarishly wrong for the two of them. He could've just as easily been burying the telepath, yet here he was, instead forcing his tongue into Charles' mouth.  Breaking the kiss only to pull his own shirt off eagerly over his head, Erik was only half certain that his actions were of his own accord, Charles still mulling about his head and pulsing his desire at him louder than a fog horn. Tossing his shirt to join Charles’ on the floor, he dove back down, dodging Charles’ the the second time in favor of kissing a line along his jaw once again.  Shrugging out of the shirt Erik had helped lay waste too, Charles pressed back against Erik’s mouth with his own, trying harder this time not to lay cuts on the man’s mouth with his newly formed fangs and even so still failing to avoid a few nicks. He knew Erik didn’t mind the little cuts, the wounds hardly bringing any pain to him and even serving as a physical reminder of how foreign this all was for Charles.

Eyes cast down to take in Charles’ mouth, he leaned in to whisper against his lip, voice full of dark implications, "Getting to go upstairs isn't the only new freedom that's been returned to you, you know.” He emphasized the statement with a nip at Charles' lip that was all teeth before tearing away from him and pulling his pants off over his hips. Four hundred years tended to nullify any sense of shame one could have in themselves, though Erik had nothing to be shameful about, with the way the dim yellow light of Charles' old vanity mirror hooked and spilled over curves and dips of the taller mutant's skin. "I can think of all manner of use for your newfound…,” A very deliberate pause was taken as Erik was already one foot into the shower as he stared obviously over Charles' body, sweeping him once with his sharp, predatory gaze, ”Sensitivity. “

Laughing as Erik dove past his mouth to cover his jaw in kisses, he was silenced abruptly, a flush growing over his cheeks as he came to realize just what Erik was alluding to. It took only a split fraction of a second for it to occur to him, Erik’s words serving to make Charles suddenly very aware of his erection. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been able to achieve one with his injury at all, but the terrible two minute affairs that ended in absolutely nothing were hardly something Charles had made note of. This though, was just as he’d remembered it before the accident. I n a brash attempt to collect himself as Erik moved back, removing the rest of the clothes in the process, Charles glanced away, turning his head to the side and nervously rubbing at his neck. He had little time for shame though, and he found himself drawn instantly back to Erik, eyes trailing up and down to feast themselves on him. As much as Erik seemed to dislike his affliction of vampirism, it was a gift to the world that his young form was to be preserved for all time.  Mirroring Erik’s actions, Charles too stripped himself of the remnants of his tattered and bloodied clothes, more than happy to be rid of them. There were brief moments of shame as he stepped out of pile he’d made on the floor, but quickly he was back to his older, sly self. He’d had enough things to be ashamed about over the past five years. No reason for that shame now.

With a smirk, Charles asked, “The fact that you fathered me into unlife doesn’t make this strange at all for you, does it?” only making the quip with the knowledge that there was little that could stop Erik from claiming him at this point. Stepping into the shower to join Erik, he stood directly under the water, foregoing their sexual foray for a moment to rid himself of the filth that still clung to his hair. Charles watched as the last of his life swirled down the drain, a whirlpool of blood signifying the end of a life he was glad to leave behind.  The question over Erik being a technical father to the telepath seemed to do nothing but amuse Erik, chuckling softly in the back of his throat as he pushed his own hair back from his eyes, ”I have no qualms about it if you don’t."

Coming out of the water, Charles slicked his hair back, blinking his eyes open and grinning, a flash of newborn fangs. There was hardly enough room in the shower for two people, but Charles was happy for it, having little distance to cross before he was pressed flush against Erik. Propping himself up a good inch higher to kiss him, Charles grinned against the other man’s mouth, fangs pressing dangerously against his lips as he whispered, “You have no idea how glad I am that I have to lean up to kiss you.”

"You just like being able to lean up at all. Not that your smaller stature isn't terribly charming,” Erik corrected softly, his arms already sliding around Charles' waist against the floor of warm water pouring around them, pulling their forms together and letting his fingers ride the slick curves of Charles' skin. "But its the smallest of things that we take for granted,” Erik's voice dropped an octave, hushing the sentiment by pressing a light kiss on Charles' lips. A vampire as old as he had certainly had more than enough time to ponder the subject of things taken for granted. The ability to stand, to jump, to wiggle one's toes, watching a sunrise, and most recently? Companionship. To actually want someone again, to see a thread of hope that eternity didn't have to be a barren abyss. A ny clear thoughts remaining in the ancient metalbender faded quickly, lips busying themselves  to take a moment to really kiss Charles the way he wanted, deep and hard and passionate in a way that left their fangs raking together desperately as Erik explored the telepath's mouth with his tongue. 

The quite ardent display of affection for his progeny only seemed a distraction as Erik's strong fingers slid between them, sliding the pads of his fingertips up Charles thigh in an intentionally slow way before his fingertips dare grazed the soaked skin of his cock. Despite all of his strength, he was gentle with Charles, guiding his pale frame against the old taupe tiles of the shower wall. "If you'll allow me to dote on you. And if you’ll trust me, perhaps we can catch you up on a few things you've missed out on,” he said, svelte frame bending at the knees as his tall form brought itself down to kneel on the tile, dragging his lips as he went and stopping only once he even with Charles' downright lickable stomach. 

His fingers alone left Charles gasping, even if they were hardly doing anything. Just the ability to feel, to feel anything on his cock was more than enough to leave Charles a wreck, nails digging painfully into Erik’s back as he clung to the man like he was a virgin all over again. He overheard Erik muse briefly on the fact that they were two men, pondering Charles’ level of experience. Replying without words, Charles sent back images of fumbled nights alone, a small tube of a usually innocuous substance on his bedside and Charles writhing under the sheets. There were more to the images, but Charles preferred instead to keep them under wraps, teasing Erik with only guessing as to what the then teenaged telepath was getting up to.

“I trust you. Completely,” Charles projected behind the slew of images, unsure his mouth could form the words. Erik’s hand found way to the base of Charles cock, fingers teasing around it as he boldly reached his head forward to take a teasing lick tongue dragging dangerously between his fangs. Even if he was teasing him, testing the waters; he wanted to give Charles this. He deserved it more than anyone after what he'd been through. I t was the truth and Erik would become inevitably aware of it by the myriad of confirming emotions that ran between them as Charles projected, traces of sexual desire ingrained in every thought. Meeting Erik’s eyes, Charles chewed nervously at his lip, a hand coming down to thread fingers through Erik’s hair. As Erik brought his mouth to Charles’ cock, Charles couldn’t help the bit of accidental pulling at Erik’s hair, whole body tensing. It was a reaction mostly of pleasure, though a darker image of Erik’s teeth sinking into the delicate member ran quickly through his head to provide even more reason for the physical reaction. 

Still, Charles trusted Erik, thoughts on how very much Erik just wanted to please him giving him more than enough confidence. As he took Charles completely in his mouth, taking great care not to scrape the razor blades that inhabited his mouth on anything, Charles let out a moan, again gripping tight to Erik’s hair. Fingernails of Charles’ free hand scraping down the tile of the wall as he scrambled for purchase, Erik ran his tongue deviously up Charles’ cock, eliciting the first swear out of Charles’ mouth Erik had heard. _Fuck, Erik,_  was repeated in the man’s head, echoing what sounded so much sweeter coming from Charles’ lips.   Without preamble, Charles found himself yelping with surprise, clawing into the tile, and shooting down Erik’s throat. Charles wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, the fact that he’d come in less than a minute or the fact that it’d come so suddenly. Really, he should have expected himself not to last long after nearly five years of inactivity. It was a miracle the man didn’t bite him from surprise, though Charles probably had his mind to thank for that. While he himself may not have been aware of it, there was a mounting pleasure that Charles had, unbeknownst to himself, shared with Erik, and, happily enough, it was probably what saved his cock a mauling.

Breathing heavy, Charles dropped his head like a rock against the wall, fingers releasing their hold on Erik's hair as he moved off his cock. Laughing abruptly, Charles looked down at Erik, not even realizing the dribble of blood that ran from his bitten lips. If Charles was going to be a successful vampire, he'd probably have to stop biting his damn lips so much. "Thank you,” he said in a harried breath, repeating it again, “Thank you for that.”

Charles raised a brow, hand coming down to tip Erik's chin up to him, "Is there something I could do for you?"

The sound of Charles' voice drew Erik's eyes lazily up, leaning into the fingers that cupped his jaw with an expression that suggested he was rather pleased with himself. Between the erotic sounds that Charles made and the constant barrage of projections the entire time, performing this sort of act on Charles was quickly going to become his new favorite hobby. 

"Until you get the hang of your fangs, I believe I'll pass,” Erik mumbled with a smirk cracking at the corner of his lips, droplets of water still sliding down gathered tips of his dark hair. 

The knelt vampire began to upright himself slowly, taking his time to press a chaste kiss or two against Charles' frame as he regained his height. Erik's fingers came to draw about Charles' waist, craning his head to drag his tongue up the trail of blood formed at the corner of Charles' mouth, topping the motion off with a quick peck to his poor, abused lips.  

"You've had enough excitement for one night,” Erik declared, drawing back and finally allowing Charles his freedom of movement, of pulling his own head under the spray of the neglected shower and giving his hair a quick wash. Shaking his head like a dog to clear the water from his ears, Erik was the first to step boldly out of the shower to snatch towels out of the long untouched linen closet. The telepath was greeted by being swaddled up in Erik's arms, kissing the top of his wet head once. 

As the dawn started to grow closer and the two found their way back into clothing, Erik was the first to break the news that sleeping out in the open was just too risky on the grounds someone were to enter and pull back the curtains. Perhaps if they were a little more secluded, sure; but it wasn't something Erik seemed willing to risk. Dragging himself under the high frame of Charles' old master bed and dragging a pillow or two down with him, Erik easily found a way to make sleeping a great deal easier to accept. He let Charles crawl to half lay on him, an arm hooked around him to drag him close and stare at the nothing of the mattress above.  It was hard for the old vampire to not let his mind run wild over the fact that after all of these years, he'd finally become a creator himself, vowing quietly to be better than his own as he absently hugged Charles a bit tighter and fell asleep.


End file.
